Head Over Feet
by Rachel Greenwood
Summary: Eight years after Titanic, there's a new man in Rose's life, but he just happens to be Cal's poor cousin. When she accepts an invitation to spend a week in the country with him, she comes face to face with Cal again, but this time everything is different.
1. Chapter 1

_September 1920_

"He isn't right for you." Cal's voice was low; his tone was cordial, even friendly, but Rose stiffened anyway. She stared straight ahead, pretending to be too absorbed in the setting sun to hear him. What gave him the right to follow her outside? To speak to her at all? It was only by chance that they found themselves in the same place again. Had she known he would be there, she would never have come. Had she known Michael was his cousin, she probably would never have spoken to him, let alone have accepted the dinner invitation which, six months later, led to an invitation to spend a week at his family's house in the country. Of course, house was an inadequate term for it. Rose had seen her share of palatial estates, but this one dwarfed them all. Now, she understood why.

She hadn't been there an hour when she saw him. Cal. Just standing across the room, a drink in his hand. Astonishment shone in his eyes, but he didn't let it spread to his features. To his credit, he hadn't said anything about having met her before. It was clear the two branches of the family rarely spoke. Michael's laugh and explanation that he belonged to "the poor side" only made her more uncomfortable. Of course she would find someone who would lead her back to Cal, the last person she ever wanted to see. She'd done so well at surviving on her own; why shouldn't her old life come back to haunt her?

Cal watched her with a bemused expression. Her hair was longer. Her clothes simpler, though still well-cut. She wore no jewelry. There was a solidity about her that hadn't been there before. Her posture had always been good, but now she looked directly into the eyes of everyone she spoke to. Her voice was clear and confident. She spoke without any fear of reproach. Cal found himself intrigued by her. Where had she been? What had she done since that night? Clearly, her life hadn't gone as terribly as he'd expected. When she spoke at dinner, alternating between sincerity and sarcasm, his original interest in her had begun to revive. Rose had always been a fascinating creature, even if he felt it necessary to curb those behaviors that attracted him to her.

"You can't possibly be happy with him," he said. "Cousin Michael is as dull as a missionary, although he's twice as _good_." He made being good sound distasteful.

"I don't see what interest you can have in our relationship," she said coolly. "But since you're so persistent, I'll just say I don't find him dull at all. He's very intelligent, and he's certainly a more interesting companion than you ever were."

Cal laughed. Rose's mouth thinned into a frown. "It's extraordinary how much I've missed these little tirades of yours," he said. "No-one manages to insult me quite the way you can. But I suppose no-one else wants to."

"Oh, I'm sure many other want to," she replied sweetly. "I just happen to not be afraid of you, even after everything you've done."

"I wondered when we'd get to that," he said. "Well, go on. If you want to say something, say it. You've been holding it in since yesterday. I saw it in your face when you walked in."

"Don't presume to tell me what I want to say or how I feel," Rose said sharply. "Don't presume to know anything about me. You never did. You didn't even know the girl I was eight years ago. But if you're so eager to hear what I think of you, then I'll tell you. I don't think anything. You may as well not even be here, and as for what happened before—" She faltered but quickly recovered. "My feelings were made clear then, as were yours. I know you have only the veneer of a civilized person, but do try and find the strength not to speak to me again." Rose turned on her heel and walked away, not a little pleased with herself.

Cal watched her go, his indignation mixing with amusement. He had asked for it, hadn't he? He smiled. Perhaps this wouldn't be the dull week he had anticipated, after all.

…

Michael's eyes lit up when he saw her. "There you are," he said. Rose managed a smile as he moved toward her. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine, just a little tired."

"Yeah, well, my family can be tiring," he said. "I should've warned you. I didn't expect so many of my cousins to be here. I was told it would be just the two of us and Edith, but apparently, Diana was dying to come up here, so the others came with her."

Rose only vaguely knew Cal's cousins. She had been introduced to most of them during their engagement, but none of them seemed to remember her, for which she was grateful. Of course, she looked different now. She had to. Eight years of freedom had done wonders for her, at least, as far as she could see. She couldn't help feeling slightly superior. They lived in their safe, pretty bubble, while she was out in the world, taking risks and chasing adventures. Not one of them knew what it was like to struggle for a place to sleep or something to eat, except perhaps Michael and Edith. They didn't know the satisfaction of earning the money in their pockets. Had she really once lived among them? It seemed so long ago, even longer than eight years.

"I don't mind them," she said. "They're a bit dull, but that can't be helped."

"Maybe we can teach them something about having fun," Michael suggested. "Liven them uo a bit?" He kissed her forehead. "If anyone can, it's you."

Michael's eyes were green; his hair was a soft, dark brown. He smiled easily. Rose was never uncomfortable with him. He never expected her to be anything but herself. "You flatter me," she said.

"No, I don't. I never flatter anyone."

It was true. He didn't. Michael always told the truth. It was one of the things she loved most about him. She never had to worry that he was trying to manipulate her or that he was creating schemes to get what he wanted. That wasn't in his nature. He did everything with the same deliberate patience. Sometimes, he reminded her of Jack, but she preferred when she didn't. The moments when he was like Jack only emphasized the face that he wasn't him. She tried her best not to compare them. It wasn't fair to any of them. No-one could stand up against Jack's memory, and she wanted to love someone again. It wasn't a betrayal to leave Jack where he was, safely nestled in her heart. He'd wanted her to go on.

"What do you say to a walk?" Michael asked.

"Sure," she answered. She took the arm he offered.

…..

"No-one told me they were coming," Diana grumbled, refilling her glass. "Had I known, I would have stayed home." She was a tall, imposing woman with dark green eyes and jet black hair, which she wore in a close-cut bob.

"Oh, our cousins aren't so bad," Frank said. His own hair was the same black, but his eyes were brown. There were laugh lines around the corners of his mouth. At thirty-three, he was the second oldest in the circle of cousins. Diana, his sister, was twenty-nine. Sophia, his other sister, who sat next to him on the sofa, was twenty-seven, and the youngest in the circle. Over the years, Frank had often envied Cal his status as an only child.

"You're just in love with Edith," Diana sniffed. Frank ignored her.

"Don't be quarrelsome," Sophia said. "Diana, you know we can't bear these little fits of yours."

"Fits?" Diana said indignantly. "When have I ever had a fit?"

"Every time you drink," Cal said, as he strolled into the room. Sophia laughed. Frank smiled but kept his eyes on his newspaper.

Diana frowned. "Caledon," she said with exaggerated cheerfulness. "How good of you to join us."

"As if I had somewhere else to be," Cal said.

"Speaking of somewhere else, where are the others?" Sophia asked. "I haven't seen any of them since dinner."

"Michael and that girl he brought are out walking," Frank said. "Edith is upstairs."

"Yes, you would know where Edith is," Diana said drily. "You do remember she's your cousin, don't you?"

"Be quiet, Diana," Cal said. As not only the eldest, but also the son of the more powerful Hockley brother, he was deferred to in all things. Diana scowled in response.

"What is that girl?" Sophia said. "Where did he find her?"

Cal couldn't help being amused. So, they didn't recognize Rose. Were their memories that short, or had she changed more than he'd realized? He would have recognized her anywhere. That hair alone was enough to do it. He leaned forward as Frank said, "They met at the law library. She helped him find some books."

"So, she's a librarian?" Sophia said. "How quaint."

"And an actress. Among other things," Frank reported. "I believe "adventurer" is the word Michael used. According to Edith, he's quite taken with her."

"Well, he's never invited anyone up here before," Sophia pointed out. "She seems like a nice enough girl, certainly good enough for _him_."

"I think she's odd," Diana said, casting a defiant look at Cal. "Have you heard some of the things she says? And that hair?" She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"What's wrong with her hair?" Cal asked, keeping his tone light. It had always been one of his favorite things about her. She never let him touch it, although he'd often wanted to. Sometimes, he'd gotten close enough to smell it, but never for very long. Rose was always moving away from him; she was always trying to avoid his touch, even in the early days of their relationship. He hadn't given it much thought at the time. She was young, he'd told himself. Modest. A lady. Everything he had been told to look for in a wife. Once they were married—But they never made it that far. She finally escaped his grasp completely. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he stop thinking about her?

"She should do something with it," Diana said. "Who does she think she is with all of those unruly curls? Mary Pickford?"

"Don't be so jealous," Cal said, emptying his glass. "It doesn't suit you."

…..

They met at the top of the stairs. Rose lifted her chin. Cal studied her. Diana was right. She did have Pickford hair. "What?" she said.

"Nothing. I'm just on my way to breakfast. I assume my eating doesn't offend you?"

"I suppose you must," she said.

"But you'd rather I didn't."

"You don't know what I'd rather," she said. She sighed as he fell into step beside her. "Can't you leave me alone?"

"I wasn't aware of being any attention to you," he said. "Should I go around to the other side of the house just to avoid walking to the dining room the same way you do? And you've been going out of your way to avoid me, so I doubt the next minute will hurt you."

"And you've been going out of your way to find me. Why?" she demanded. "Do you find it amusing to torment me?"

"What gave you that idea?"

"That you enjoy tormenting me, or that you keep following me?"

"I don't enjoy tormenting you," he said. His eyes were serious. "And our meeting is pure coincidence. I'm not planning it. Do you think I _like_ seeing you?"

"You like seeing me unhappy," she muttered. "You've done more than enough to make that happen."

"Must we go over this again?"

"We never actually finished going over it," she said.

"Last night I told you to say whatever you wanted to," he reminded her. "But you obviously have more to say. So, go ahead."

His calm infuriated her. "How can you act as if nothing happened?" she asked.

"It's been eight years. I've dealt with my anger. You weren't even real to me anymore until I saw you again."

"Oh, did you manage to kill whoever happened to be too close to you when you were 'dealing with your anger'?" she said sarcastically. "I know how much you enjoy violence."

There it was. There was the quality that had attracted him to her. In a world of people who couldn't say yes fast enough, Rose was always saying no to him. Nothing he did pleased her; nothing impressed her. He could snap his fingers and get a dozen women, all just as beautiful as she, into bed, but nothing short of force would have gotten Rose there. At least half the single women in their circle had wanted to marry him, but not her. No compliment, no gift, no gesture of affection could even bring a genuine smile to her face. He put more effort and money into pursuing her than into the pursuit of any woman, before or since. "No, unfortunately not," he said. "They evaded me."

Rose stared at him for a moment before she realized he was joking. "You have a bizarre sense of humor," she said.

"Really? I didn't know you thought I had any sense of humor."

"I didn't, at least, not one worth indulging." She started to go past him into the dining room. He laid a hand on her arm, stopping her. "Rose," he said.

Her gaze was icy. "Don't touch me, Mr. Hockley."

…..

After breakfast, Rose and Michael wandered out to the garden. Nothing was in bloom anymore, but the leaves were just beginning to turn. The house was surrounded by woods. Stately trees formed its borders. There were three different gardens and a lake. Rose thought the estate was beautiful in spite of its owners. Someone had clearly put a lot of thought into it. The plants and flowers had been chosen with care. There was a small orchard. The trees overflowed with apples. A crew had been sent to pick them.

Michael casually reached over and took her hand. "Do you like it here?" he asked.

"It's lovely. It was kind of you to invite me," she said. She hated how stiff she sounded. It was Cal's fault. He had put her on edge. She'd felt him staring at her during breakfast, daring her to speak. _Why won't he just leave me alone?_ She could always leave early, but that would involve some kind of explanation to Michael.

"I've wanted to bring you up here for a while," he said. "Rose, there's something I want to talk to you about."

Her heart began to beat faster. No, he couldn't be. He wasn't going to ask that. It was too soon. He hadn't given her any warning. Except, he had. For a month, he had dropped hints, but she refused to notice them. "Oh?" she said lightly. "What about?"

"Let's sit down," he suggested, leading her over to a bench. "I wanted to discuss the future. Our future. Rose, I love you." He laughed nervously. "I've never said it out loud before. It's nice."

"Michael—"

"Please, let me say this."

Jack flashed before her eyes. She heard his voice. She felt him leaning over her, his gaze touching her before his hand, and her stomach lurched. Suddenly, she was sure nothing Michael was about to say would make her feel the way Jack's declaration had. It wasn't his fault. It was something she had to face. _Stop!_ she screamed silently. She pushed the thought of Jack away. _Don't do this to him or yourself. Don't cling to a ghost._

"I know I don't have very much money, but my practice is solid. I'm getting more and more cases. I have a little put away. There's enough to get married on." He looked into her eyes. "If I had the right woman. I think I do."

"How can you be sure?" she asked.

"I don't know. I just have a feeling. We could be happy together. Don't you sense that? Rose, would you marry me?"

She was at a loss for words. For an agonizing moment, she wasn't sure she could even speak. "I—I don't know," she said. His face fell slightly. "I haven't even thought about marrying anyone," she added quickly. "I'm not sure I'm ready for something like that. I do love you, but…Can I think about it? Please?"

"Of course," he said. "Take however long you need."

She smiled. "Thank you, Michael. I'm sorry I can't give you an answer now."

He waved away her apology. "No need to be," he said. "I don't want you doing anything you don't want to. I won't try to pressure you into something you're not ready for."

She leaned forward and kissed him. "Thank you," she whispered.

….

Michael was alone in the drawing room when Cal came in. He looked up from his book with a cheerful, "Hello."

Cal nodded to him. "Where is everyone?"

"Diana went into town. Edith and Frank are out riding. Rose is upstairs, having a nap."

"She's a rather interesting girl."

Michael smiled. "She is, isn't she? I've never met anyone like her. Listen, Cal, can I tell you something? Will you not tell the others?"

"Sure," Cal said. "Why not?"

"I asked Rose to marry me today."

"Really?" Cal tried to sound only mildly interested. "And what did she say?"

"That she had to think about it. But it's not a no, right? There's still hope," Michael said.

"Yes, there's still hope." Cal felt oddly elated by the fact that Rose hadn't said yes. Michael was a perfectly acceptable man. Cal wasn't even ashamed to be related to him, poor as he was, but the thought of Rose marrying him was depressing. At least Jack had had some spirit.

…

Diana came back from town with plans to throw a party. She ignored the protests and reminders that it was supposed to be a quiet week in the country and announced that invitations had already been sent out. "We'll use the ballroom," she said.

"You aren't throwing a large party, are you?" Frank asked.

"Just dancing and a late supper," she said. "I'm thinking at least twenty people, besides all of us."

"You didn't think it necessary to consult the rest of us before you began making preparations?" Cal asked.

"No," she said with a shrug. He could scold all he wanted. If invitations had gone out, he wouldn't make too much of a fuss.

Cal laughed quietly. "At least you're honest," he said.

"When is this happening?" Edith asked.

"Saturday," Diana answered.

Michael leaned closer to Rose. "I'm sorry you have to be here for one of Diana's parties," he whispered. "We're seldom invited to them, but I can assure you, they're awfully dull."

Rose stifled a laugh. "I'm sure it won't be that bad," she whispered back. "We can always sneak out early."

Michael reached under the table and gave her hand a squeeze. He would never have thought of an idea like that. Rose wasn't afraid of anything, not even his cousins' displeasure, which could be rather formidable. Cal tried to watch them without being noticed. What were they whispering about? Michael laughed quietly. He gazed at Rose affectionately, and Cal felt a pang of jealousy.

….

Rose set out early the next morning. She crept into the kitchen and prepared a breakfast she could carry with her. She left a brief note for Michael. She turned and looked up at the house before entering the woods. It didn't look quite as stern in the soft morning light. She walked briskly, eating slowly. The late September air was cool. She loosened her hair, letting it flow down her back. She'd lain awake all night, grappling with Michael's question, but she still didn't have an answer.

He was kind. Funny. Intelligent. He didn't try to stifle her. He shared her interests. They had fun together. His family liked her, or at least, part of them did. She had to admit that he was right. They could be happy together. But would they be laughing or smiling? Would they be truly happy or merely content? Why didn't she just _know_? If she turned him down, would it be because she was holding on too tightly, or because she didn't love him enough?

The twig snapping startled her. She whirled around to see Cal. "Did you follow me?" she said accusingly.

"No. I was on a walk of my own," he replied. She stepped back as he moved forward. "You shouldn't be out here alone," he went on. "You could get lost. Even people who know these woods have gotten lost."

"I can handle a walk in the woods." She couldn't read his expression, and it made her nervous.

As she turned to go, he said, "Don't tell me you're going to marry him."

"I had no intention of telling you anything, but since you seem to care so much, I'll let you know I'm considering it."

"Why?"

His question caught her off guard. She expected him to mock her; she expected a sarcastic jibe, not such a frank expression of curiosity. "Because he's a good man," she answered. "I enjoy being with him, and I love him. Is that enough reason for you?"

Cal didn't know what made him say it. The words tumbled out before he could stop them. "What would Jack think of him?"

Rose's jaw tightened. "How dare you mention him!" she spat. "You didn't know him! And after what you did—"

"You couldn't have known him very well," Cal replied smoothly. "He isn't with you. What happened? Did he get bored?"

"He died," Rose said, forcing her voice to remain even. Her hands clenched into fists, and her heart pounded. Tears threatened to fill her eyes, though whether from sadness or anger she didn't know.

"Oh." Cal felt self-conscious. Sure, he'd tried to kill them both, but now, without a jealous rage upon him, he felt sympathy for her. She had survived that night, including everything he had done to make it even worse, but she didn't have the person she fought so hard to be with. Cal had a grudging respect for her. Few people had ever stood up to him the way she had. "I'm sorry," he said awkwardly. Tears spilled from her eyes. She lowered her head and hugged herself. "Here," he said, offering a handkerchief. It was white silk with his initials embroidered in black.

She laughed at the sight of it. "How impractical," she said. "I'd forgotten you carried these." She dried her eyes, but a fresh wave of tears washed over her as soon as she finished.

Cal didn't know what to do. He had nothing else to offer, and he knew better than to touch her. "Was it very recent?" he asked.

"You'd think, wouldn't you?" She shook her head. "It happened that night. He didn't make it out of the water." She couldn't believe she was telling Cal, of all people, about Jack's death. Michael didn't even know about him. But it felt so good to talk about it. "He—he made sure I would survive," she said.

They avoided looking at one another. The air between them was thick, and an unsettling sense of intimacy had sprung up between them. Rose turned and headed in a new direction. Cal followed, walking next to her. "I want to be alone," she said.

"You really can get lost," he said. "It's happened before."

"And you're following me out of concern?" she said, a sarcastic edge in her voice.

"You shouldn't marry Michael."

"Don't bring that up again. We aren't friends. We aren't anything," she said. "You don't get to try and control my life anymore."

"I'm not trying to control your life. I just think you should consider what you would be agreeing to," he said. "Yes, Michael is good. He's so wonderfully well-behaved and respectable it's sickening. But that's not what you want. You didn't run away with Jack because he offered you order and respectability."

"Why do you care?" She stopped and looked up into his eyes. "Why won't you leave me alone?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe I would just hate to think we both went to all that trouble for nothing."


	2. Chapter 2

Cal's words remained with her even after she returned to the house. He walked back with her but didn't say anything else. Before they went inside, she handed back his handkerchief. "Thank you," she said briefly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she left before he could get the words out. He turned the handkerchief, still damp from her tears, over in his hands. He didn't know what he would have said anyway.

…

The days passed pleasantly enough. Rose avoided Cal whenever she could, but despite her best efforts, he was always there, at her elbow, across from her, coming up the stairs when she was going down. He spoke politely to her; there was nothing to criticize about his behavior. But she sensed he was holding something back. His gaze lingered on her. There were hidden meanings in his words. He seemed to almost smirk at Michael, which only made Rose more loyal to him. So, he wasn't Jack, and he didn't resemble him very much. Was she supposed to spend her life hoping another artist-adventurer came along? As much as she wished it would, she knew it wasn't likely to happen.

Michael hadn't said anything, but she knew he wanted an answer. He wouldn't push her into one, and it wasn't fair to keep him waiting. She regarded him across the dinner table. He was so kind, so patient. He caught her eye, and his smile widened, no longer a polite gesture, but genuine now. Marrying him was the right choice. He loved her. He would give her stability but also leave her free to do as she liked. Few men would agree to such an arrangement. It was the sort of thing she imagined Jack would have done. The stability wouldn't have been financial, but he would have given her emotional stability; he would have been someone to lean or even fall on. Michael could be that too, she told herself.

She felt Cal watching her, but her expression didn't change. She glanced at him and was surprised to see a wistful look in his eyes. For a moment, they looked at each other, and it was as if she were seeing him for the first time. Regret wasn't something she had thought he could feel.

…..

"Will you come into the garden with me?" Rose asked. She held her hand out to Michael.

"Of course," he said eagerly.

The nights were beginning to turn cold, but he didn't feel it. Her hand in his kept him warm. As she began to speak, Rose felt a chill, but it came from within. She ignored it. "I'm sorry it's taken me so long to give you an answer," she said.

"Oh, that's alright. You needed time to think."

"No, it isn't," she went on. "I shouldn't have kept you waiting like that."

"You weren't sure," he said.

"No," she agreed. "I wasn't. But I am not."

He moved closer, taking her other hand. "You are?" he said.

"Yes. I'll marry you."

"You will?" he cried. "You mean it?"

"Yes."

Overjoyed, Michael crushed her to him, embracing her in a way he'd never dared before. "My darling," he said into her hair. "We'll be happy together. I promise."

"I know we will," she said. But the chill was still there.

"Come on," he said, taking her hand. "Let's tell everyone." She let him lead her inside. "Everyone," he said, loud enough to be heard throughout the large drawing room. "I have an announcement." Beaming, he squeezed her hand. She smiled. "Rose has agreed to marry me."

Edith hurried toward them. "Congratulations!" she said, embracing them both. "I knew this would happen eventually." She kissed Rose's cheek. "I'm glad it's you," she added.

Edith's affection warmed her. "Thank you," she said, offering a hug of her own.

One by one they offered their congratulations. Diana's handshake was stiff and she looked Rose over coldly. Rose stared back at her defiantly. Sophia and Frank were more effuse, though when Frank kissed her, Rose wondered if it wasn't just for the change to place his lips where Edith's had so recently been. Only Cal said nothing. He watched Rose from across the room, feigning indifference.

…..

It was decided the party would now be an engagement party for Rose and Michael. It didn't matter that Rose knew no-one on the guest list, and Michael only had a passing acquaintance with most of them. Diana insisted on it, ignoring their protests. "We don't want a fuss made," Michael said.

"Nonsense," Diana replied. 'Every woman wants an engagement party. I won't hear another word about it."

Rose knew better than to argue with someone like Diana; it would have been as useless as arguing with her mother. She resigned herself to the party, which until then she had hoped to avoid even attending.

The ring he gave her was small. The stone was round, and the band was silver. It fit perfectly on her hand. It wasn't heavy. She turned it over and over, looking at it from every angle. _I'm going to be married._ The thought didn't fill her with dread, as it once had, but it didn't produce anticipation either. Was this how she would always feel now? Blandly safe? Happy but not joyous? If it were Jack—But she couldn't think about that. The more she tried not to, however, the more she did. Memories played before her eyes, and she couldn't stop them. She hadn't thought about those days this intensely in years, and now it was as if it had all just happened. Jack's voice rang in her ears as clear as if he were there talking to her. She could still smell him, that unique combination of soap, pencils, and something else, something that was just him.

She stole away to the woods again on the morning of the party. She found a clear spot and settled under a tree to think. Not about her decision. No, that was done. Instead, she thought about Jack, about the life they might have had, and the life she had made so far. He would approve. She was sure he would.

"You really shouldn't be out here alone."

Rose scowled up at Cal. "You really shouldn't be following me," she said.

"I wasn't," he replied. "I often walk out here. But I have some idea where I'm going."

"Yes, you always did love the outdoors," she said drily.

"I do."

"I don't remember that," she said.

"Maybe you didn't know," he suggested. "Maybe there are a lot of things you don't know about me."

"Are you really trying that?" she scoffed.

"Trying what?"

"Trying to make me feel guilty," she said. "Acting as if the problems in our relationship only came from me. They didn't. You knew how I felt. You knew I didn't want to marry you."

"You never told me that."

"I believe I did," she said, only a trace of sarcasm in her voice. "In fact, I recall making it quite clear."

"Yes, you did make your preferences known," he said, smiling slightly, as if amused. "Such language."

"I was simply echoing yours."

"Before that—" he began.

"You're more intelligent than this," she said. "Anyone could see I wasn't happy, and be honest, you weren't either."

"I was," he insisted.

"No, you weren't. You were never relaxed with me."

"You wouldn't let me relax," he argued.

"Oh, it's still my fault?" she said. "I kept you tense. Is that because I refused to accept the invitations into your bed?"

"Rose—"

"Don't lie to me," she said. "Not anymore. You aren't as good at it as you think. I agreed to marry you because I thought I had no choice. You made that situation worse. You didn't have to."

"I didn't behave any differently than any other man would have."

"I think you genuinely believe that," she said.

"Is that why you're marrying Michael?" he asked. "Because he'll never challenge you?"

She gazed at him coolly. "Why I'm marrying him is not your concern," she said. "I believe I've already asked you to leave me alone."

"He doesn't know about us, does he? He doesn't know about Jack, so he can't know about the rest. He'd never bring you here if he did."

"If you're threatening to tell him" she said. "Don't bother. I know you won't. It would be too embarrassing for you, especially with me around to tell the parts you leave out. You can't threaten me," she added calmly. "Not anymore."

His expression softened. "I'm not trying to. I'm simply trying to understand why you're doing this."

"It's not for you to understand."

"You won't believe me, but I feel responsible for you," he said.

"What?" she said incredulously.

"I mean it. You're marrying him because of me," Cal replied. "And you shouldn't marry him. He's not right for you."

"You're more arrogant than I remembered," Rose snapped. "Don't assign yourself any unnecessary responsibility. I make my own choices."

"And you chose Jack," he shot back. "But he isn't here. Because of things I did. Ever since you arrived, I've thought about you," he went on. "I can't stop. I relive those days—that night, and I feel—" He paused, gathering the strength to finish. "Guilty." He spat the word. "I feel responsible. Obligated to do something to somehow make it up you, especially now that you're settling for someone who isn't even a poor imitation of him! He wasn't much, but he was better than my cousin.

"You didn't sink the ship."

"I didn't make it any easier for you to survive," he said. "I could have."

"So could I." Her voice was deadly calm. "If I'd stayed in the boat, he would have been worrying about me. He would've saved himself. If you want to feel guilty, them by all means, feel guilty. You should, but don't talk to me about making amends for his death, as if it's something you could ever fix. I may not love Michael the way I love him, but that's just the way things are. I may not ever love anyone else that way, and I can't spend my life waiting to find out."

He stepped toward her as she turned to go. "Rose, please—"

"No. We're finished."

….

"I'm sorry about this," Michael said as they approached the ballroom. Music and laughed flowed through the open doors.

Rose looped her arm through his. "Don't be," she said. "We'll find a way to have fun."

He gave her hand a squeeze. "Only you would see it that way."

"I doubt that."

"You know, you make everything better," he said. "I mean it. You do."

She leaned up and kissed him quickly. "You're just saying that."

Most of the guests had already arrived. Few people noticed when Rose and Michael came in. Couples were already dancing in the middle of the room. Cal saw them walk in. Rose's hair was up, twisted in some complicated way he immediately wanted to undo. Her dress was lavender, short and silk, fashionable yet timeless. The other women looked vulgar next to her, or so he though. He resisted the urge to approach her. Next to him, Nicole chattered, but he didn't hear. He seldom heard when she spoke.

"Oh, look, here comes Diana," she said.

"Nicole, darling, I'm so glad you could come," Diana said. "This was all rather last minute, but—"

"I wouldn't have missed it for anything," Nicole replied. "Although, I'm not sure your cousin shares your joy in my presence," she added, glancing at Cal.

"Don't pay him any mind," Diana said. "You know what he's like."

"Am I being insulted?" asked Cal.

"Well, you have been watching that strange girl since she came in and completely ignoring me," Nicole replied pettishly.

"I'm sorry, my dear." Cal kissed her hand. "Do forgive me."

Nicole smiled, placated. "Of course. But who is that girl? Diana, did you invite her?"

"Her?" Diana said, finding Rose with her eyes. "She's Michael's new fiancée. You know, cousin Michael? He brought her up here. Strange isn't the right word for her. No-one knows anything about her, but he's completely besotted with her. I can't imagine why."

"Can't you?' Cal said.

Diana's smile didn't waver. "No, but I see you can," she said. "Someone should tell Nicole to keep a firm grip on you."

Nicole laughed. "Don't say anything like that, or he'll think I'm trying to trap him."

All talk ceased as Rose and Michael approached. "It's a lovely party, Diana," Michael said. "You've outdone yourself."

"Thank you," she said graciously. She cast a critical eye over Rose. 'Wherever did you get that dress?" she asked.

"I made it," Rose answered.

"Really?" Diana's tone was friendly, but Rose heard her true meaning. Cal did as well.

"Diana should be impressed," he said. "She can't sew a stitch."

"Why would I need to?" Diana laughed.

"Indeed, why?" Rose said.

"I think it looks very nice on you," Nicole said diplomatically. She felt the tension in the air but didn't know where it came from.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Michael said, looking at her, his eyes sparkling with affection. "She doesn't like me to say it, though."

Rose felt awkward under their joint scrutiny. She kept telling herself it was just like being onstage, but it wasn't. Onstage, the lights hid the audience, and she forgot about them. Without meaning to, she caught Cal's eye. His expression was peculiar. He looked almost sympathetic, as if he knew how she felt. But he couldn't. Cal never minded being in front of a crowd; friendly or hostile, it was all the same to him. She let herself fall out of the conversation. She found little of interest in what they said. It was just like the parties she'd gone to before. Mindless chatter. No-one saying anything of substance. She wished they could leave, but she knew it was too early. Michael would go if she asked, but he wouldn't want to. She glanced at him. He was enjoying himself. She had said they would make it fun; she just wasn't holding up her end of the deal.

"You don't mind, do you?" Michael said.

"Mind?" Rose said. "Of course not." She tried to sound as if she had been listening all along.

"Good," Diana said. "I knew you'd indulge me." Rose watched as Michael and Diana swept onto the dance floor. She and Cal awkwardly faced each other, alone now. "Where did—" she began.

"Nicole? She's off with someone or other," he said. "You didn't see her go? You should be careful. Someone might notice the glazed look in your eyes."

"You never did."

"Was that another joke at my expense?" he said, smiling slightly.

"I'm afraid it was."

He offered his hand. "Do you think you could stand dancing with me?"

She hesitated. "Only because I love dancing," she said.

"Yes, I remember."

They stayed as far apart as they could. They moved through the steps, not speaking, until Rose said, "You're still an awful dancer."

"Awful?" he said. "Really? And why is that?"

"You don't move with the music," she explained. "You don't feel it. You just repeat the steps."

"Dancing is repeating the steps."

She shook her head. "It's more than that."

"I've never had any complaints," he said. "Until now."

"Maybe not to your face."

They lapsed into silence again. She studied his face. His expression was somber and distracted, as if he were worried about how he looked. She laughed.

"My dancing is amusing to you?" he said.

"You're so stiff, so serious," she said. "Are you enjoying yourself at all? If this is the way you dance, I can't imagine how you make love."

He was shocked by her boldness, but he hid it. "I've never had any complaints about that either," he said.

"Maybe not to your face."

"I don't see what one has to do with the other," he said.

"No, you wouldn't."

"Does Michael dance well?" he asked.

"He does," she said thoughtfully. "He isn't as comfortable as he could be, but he isn't stiff like you. He cares about the steps, though."

"And you don't?"

"No. The best dances don't have any," she said. "You just go with it."

He wanted to pull her closer, to relax and show her she was wrong about him, but he couldn't. There were too many people watching. There were always too many people watching. And he cared what they thought. Until he didn't. Until he lost himself in some unquenchable emotion.

"You're so quiet now," she said.

"Is that a problem?"

"No. I was just making an observation," she said. "So, you've found another one."

"Another what?"

"Girl to marry."

"Who said I was marrying her?" he asked.

"Isn't that your intention?" she said. "She's exactly your type. Why can't you find a woman your own age?"

"I suppose I could," he replied. "Though most of them are already married."

"That just leaves you with the young girls," she mocked.

"That leaves me with no-one," he said.

"Is that self-pity I hear? I wouldn't have expected that from you. Even lovely Miss Nicole isn't good enough for you? That's odd. I would have thought she was pretty and silly enough."

"She's dull," he said. He was surprised to hear himself say it out loud.

"But, Cal, that's how you like your women. Dull and docile."

"That's how I'm supposed to like them," he said.

…

Rose felt his gaze on her long after the part ended. She lay in bed, unable to sleep. His words kept ringing in her ears. There was something about him now; something had changed, but she couldn't pinpoint what. Or maybe it was that she had changed. Either way, it didn't matter. She would go home Monday, and most likely, never see him again. And that was how she wanted it. He only called up old memories and pried into things that weren't his business. So he felt responsible for her. He should keep it to himself. She had enough problems of her own to contend with. It wasn't up to her to soothe his conscience.

Rose rolled onto her side, hugging the extra pillow. She moved her thumb over her ring. It was smooth and cool. Marrying him was the right choice. She knew it was. All of Cal's talk had out doubts in her head. Yes, that was it, and who was he to comment on her life? He didn't know what she wanted or needed. She laughed as she realized he was her oldest friend, if friend could be used that loosely. He had known her before anyone else in her life. He knew her family, where she was really from, and her knew about Jack. He knew more than Michael, in a way. It was an odd though. She didn't like it. This wasn't how she wanted to think of him. Even now, it wasn't how she wanted him to be. Everything was so much simpler when he was just the Cal she remembered, cold and distant, controlling, mocking, not this complex creature who talked of guilty and what Jack would say.

What would Jack say? She couldn't stop herself from wondering. The door was open now. Would he approve of Michael, or would he tell her to wait? That she was settling? She closed her eyes and pressed her face against the pillow. "Jack." She said it softly, almost hoping it would summon him, but of course, it didn't. It never did. She would have to figure things out on her own.


	3. Chapter 3

For the next two weeks Cal found himself feeling restless. Nothing held his interest. Even the business, which was normally his favorite thing, couldn't keep him diverted. Physically, there was nothing wrong with him. He called in his doctor, who pronounced him healthy and suggested he get out of his usual routine. So, when Frank dropped by his office with plans to spend a few weeks in New York, Cal invited himself along. Normally, he didn't trust doctors, and at first he dismissed the advice as a waste of money, but Frank's plan sounded like a good one. Why not get away for a while? He hadn't had a real vacation in years, and what was the point of owning the company if he didn't take advantage of it? He saw the same people every day, ate in the same restaurants, flirted with the same girls. He had never cared much for New York, but at least it was somewhere different.

"I should tell you," Frank said, as they boarded the train. "I'm going up there to see Edith. You'll probably be on your own most of the time."

"I think I can handle it," Cal replied. "I know how to keep myself occupied."

But he soon found the problem had followed him, and by the end of their first day in the city, he was inviting himself to dinner with Frank. "I thought you could handle being alone," Frank said.

"Do you not want me around?"

"And what if I don't?" Frank replied. "If you come along, Michael has to come, and he'll bring Rose."

Cal's ears pricked up at the sound of her name. "They'll come?" he said, as casually as he could.

"Most likely. Edith doesn't like you very much, and she won't come to dinner with just the two of us. But if you stay home—"

"Don't you see," Cal said persuasively. "You need me; you need all of us."

Frank gave him a puzzled look. "I do? Why?"

"You want to marry our dear, distant cousin, don't you? Come on, don't pretend you don't. We all know. The whole family has always known, and I don't care. I'm not your sister; it doesn't matter to me what you do with your life."

"Well thanks," Frank said drily.

"Don't get offended," Cal said. "I don't have anything against her. You could do better, and if you were my son and not my cousin, I'd worry about that. My point is, she'll never marry you unless that saintly brother of hers approves, and we both know he doesn't."

"And bringing you to dinner is going to change his mind?"

"Well, you'll certainly look better next to me," Cal said. "Michael is much too well-mannered to say it, but he can't stand me, not really."

"Are you offering to help me?" Frank's tone was skeptical. "What's in this for you?"

"Frank, I am insulted," Cal said. "Aren't we family?"

"You don't do anything just out of the goodness of your heart," Frank retorted. "I've known you too long to believe that."

"Fine. I just don't feel like eating alone tonight," Cal said. "If that helps you, then it's my good deed for the day."

"Good deed for the decade," Frank joked.

"I'm not _that_ bad."

Cal would never have admitted it, but his real motive was a desire to see Rose again. He didn't know why, but he felt compelled to speak to her again. There wasn't anything to say; there was nothing between them. And yet, in the days since they last parted, his thoughts kept returning to her. He pictured her face, the way she'd looked at him when they danced, her sarcastic smile and the elusive sincere one. He remembered the things she said, the insult and accusations, but also, how insightful she had been at times, and how incredibly lonely and vulnerable she'd seemed. He couldn't remember ever seeing her that way before, even when the ship was going down. Her insistence that she was happy stuck with him, and he wanted to somehow find out the truth, to make her say she wasn't really. It wasn't much different from the compulsions he'd once had to control her, though he tried to tell himself his interest was purely altruistic. He also wanted to laugh again, to hear her refuse to take him seriously, so he wouldn't have to take himself seriously, if only for a few minutes.

Frank was tense as they entered the house Edith and Michael shared, but Cal was oddly calm. Frank's fears melted when edit came in, and both were lost to the rest of the group. Michael nodded at Cal; their handshake was firm but lacked warmth. Now that he was in his own home, it was easier to remember how little he cared for Call; there was no reason to try and cultivate a friendship where none had ever existed.

Cal turned to Rose, who regarded him with curiosity. He almost smiled but held it back. He settled for letting his eyes soften. "Hello," he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Rose maintained her composure. "Hello," she said. "I didn't expect to see you again."

"Do you mind?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. Of course not. I'm always glad to see part of Michael's family."

"Good," he said. He released her hand and was surprised by how much he didn't want to. Michael was watching, but Cal didn't care. What was he to him? But Rose looked away, moving closer to Michael, who put an arm around her. Cal had never cared about his cousin one way or the other, but he despised him at that moment. This was different from the way he'd felt about Jack, though he wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe, he thought, as they took their seats in the dining room, it was because Jack had at least been a worthy opponent, though he hadn't thought so at first. It was insulting to watch her try and convince him—and herself—she was in love with Michael, truly in love, enough to marry him happily.

"What brings you here?" Michael asked, fixing his gaze on Cal.

"I just thought I'd come with Frank and see the city," Cal replied smoothly. "It's been years since I visited New York."

"I didn't think you liked it here," Michael said.

"I don't, usually." Cal's eyes flicked over to Rose, who pretended not to notice. "But things change."

"Some things don't," Rose said. She spoke calmly, but her meaning wasn't lost on Cal.

"Do you really believe that?" he said, turning to her.

"I do. If you don't like something, you never will."

"Ever?" Cal pressed.

"Ever," she said firmly.

"Well, this is certainly interesting," Frank said. He shot Cal an irritated look. If this was his idea of helping, it wasn't working. "But let's talk about something else, shall we?"

As dinner progressed, Cal's plan actually began to work. Not caring what the others thought, he focused nearly all of his attention on Rose, saying things he knew she would respond to, no matter how badly she wanted to ignore him. The longer it went on, the more agitated she became, and the angrier Michael became, though he was too well-mannered to confront him. This left Frank and Edith to try and salvage the conversation. By the end of dinner, Rose's eyes flashed, and her cheeks were flushed. It took all of her strength to hold back everything she wanted to say.

"Would anyone like some coffee?" Edith asked, hopefully, looking over at Frank.

The phone rang before anyone could answer. "I'll get it," Michael said.

"No, thank you," Rose said. "I think I need some air, if you don't mind." She hurried outside, glad to finally be free of the tension. She breathed in the cold night air, feeling more relieved than chilled. So much for her belief that she'd never see Cal again. What was he doing there?

She didn't have to turn around to know it was him stepping outside. She could just sense him. "Why are you here?" she demanded.

"I already told you," Cal said.

"I don't believe you." She spun around. "You just had to make me miserable one more time? Was that it? You enjoyed it so much before you thought you'd—"

"That's not why I'm here," he cut in. "Everything I do does not revolve around you. Not anymore."

"When did it ever?" she scoffed.

"You think it didn't?" he asked. "Do you think I didn't reorder everything around you?" She shivered as he moved closer. "Here," he said, offering his jacket. "You're not wearing anything; you should go back inside."

"I'm fine." But she accepted the jacket. She didn't know why; it seemed like a well-meant gesture, even if it did come from him. "Why are you here?" she asked again.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I wanted get away for a while."

"Didn't you get away just two weeks ago? How many vacations do you need?" she said. "But I suppose ruling the universe is quite stressful."

"It is," he said, with a hint of a smile. "More than you realize."

"And I suppose this is when I start feeling sorry for you? You tell me how empty your life is, and I tell you how empty mine is, and we help each other? Find the happiness we've both been lacking together?" Her tone was sharp with sarcasm. "In the one place neither of us ever thought to look? Well, I'm sorry darling, but that isn't going to happen."

"Why not?"

Rose laughed. "How can you ask that?"

"Why is it so difficult for you to see me as a person?" Cal said.

"I see you as a person. I just don't see you as a particularly good one."

"I'm hardly the worst there is. No-one can meet your exacting standards."

"Just because _you_ can't doesn't mean no-one can," she said. "And why you do care? Why do you insist on seeking me out when you know I don't want to see you?"

"Why don't you just leave then? I'm not forcing you to talk to me. And I had to," he went on, not giving her a chance to speak. He lightly placed a hand on her arm. She flinched but didn't jerk away. "I don't know why." Their eyes met, and she couldn't look away. There was something about them, a look she had never seen in them. His old arrogance was there, but now they almost looked warm as well. "I had to talk to you," he went on. His other hand was on her arm now, and he inching closer. She could smell him; his scent was the same. But of course it was. Why would something like that change? She didn't have quite the same urge to flee that she'd once had when she smelled it. Maybe it was the way he was touching her, so lightly, as if acknowledging her right to shove him away. He hadn't done that before.

"So you could tell me more about how I'm ruining my life?" she said.

"No. Maybe. I don't know. I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"I'm sure you couldn't," she said scornfully. "I seem to remember you saying similar things when you wanted me in bed with you."

"No-one talks to me the way you do," he said. "No-one has ever talked to me the way you do. I don't allow that to happen. But I like it from you. I've always liked it from you, even when I couldn't admit it. I'm not supposed to want you, not the way you are, not like this."

"You shouldn't want me at all," she snapped. "You have no right to want me. Your chance ended years ago, through your own doing. Need I remind you again?"

"You don't believe in second chances?"

Rose shook her head.

"What if it were Jack standing here now?" he asked.

Rose's mouth twisted. "I told you to stop talking about him. Don't compare yourself to him. Ever. There are no second chances for this. Not for us. Not for you."

"Your feelings really run deep, don't they?"

"I don't trust you," she said. "I doubt you're capable of making me trust you."

"You won't let me try," he said.

"I shouldn't have to," she cried, exasperated. "I'm marrying someone else, whom I love. I don't love you, Cal, and I never did. You're not Jack, and when I say I love someone else, and I'm going to marry them, so leave me alone, I mean it. I won't come find you. I won't change my mind and admit you're all I want. So stop this. Stop trying to be him. Stop making things harder for me." Her voice caught. "If you care about me at all, hear what I'm saying. No. I know you always had trouble with that word, but it's not because you don't understand it." She slipped out of his jacket and handed it back.

"Rose—" he called, starting after her.

"No," she said firmly, letting the door close behind her.

Rose slipped into the bathroom off the kitchen. When the door was safely locked, she sank to the floor. Hugging her knees to her chest, she let the tears come, muffling her sobs.

Rose's eyes were dry and only a little red when she rejoined the others. "There you are," Michael said. "I was getting worried." He put an arm around her shoulders. "Is something wrong?"

She felt Cal watching her but refused to look at him. "I'm sorry, Michael, but I think I need to go home," she said. "Would you take me, please?"

"Of course."

….

Michael kissed her at the door. His hands rested on her waist. He didn't pull her close or move his fingers through her curls. He didn't kiss her with any urgency. There was no need in his kisses, ever. Unbidden, the memory of the boiler room kiss came, overwhelming her. She had felt Jack's desire then; it mingled with her own, humming and crackling in the air around them. The kiss had been soft and loving but hungry and full of need. She felt his lips on her neck again, the promises they made. Promises he had fulfilled.

It wasn't fair, and she knew it. As she went into her empty apartment, thankful Michael hadn't invited himself in, she couldn't stop the comparisons. He wouldn't make love the way Jack had. It would be sweet but only that. Cal, on the other hand, would—She stopped the thought as it formed. Why did she care how Cal would do anything?

The trunk was buried in the back of her closet. She had put it there to keep it safe and out of sight. There was no reason to keep it locked, but she did anyway. She opened it slowly, almost reverently. She unfolded the paper, careful not to crease it, and took out the coat, then the dress, and finally, the diamond. Even now it glimmered in her hands. It was cold and heavy; holding it was like holding ice. She laid it aside. The dress was soft. She pressed it to her face and imagined the scent of that night lingered in its folds. She unpinned her hair and shook it out. Standing before the mirror, she held it up to herself.

…..

"Package for you, sire." The porter held out a box. Cal took it with a curt, "Thank you." There was no card. It was just a plain black box. Who could be sending him something? No-one knew where he was.

He lifted out the coat. "What?" Confused, he turned it around, searching for its meaning. A card lay at the bottom of the box. His name was written on the front in Rose's handwriting.

 _I decided it was time to return this,_ he read. _I don't need it, and you probably don't either, but I don't want it. I shouldn't have accepted it, but I had other things to worry about at the time._

Cal stared at the coat in disbelief. He had forgotten even giving it to her, but now he remembered, as clearly as if it had just happened. She had accepted it just to appease him; she was trying to get away. Jack had been there—"And she jumped off the boat," he said. He didn't need to relive what came next.

….

Michael met her at the door. "They're here again," he said. "I thought I should warn you."

"Your cousins?" Rose said.

"Unfortunately."

"Why?" she asked quietly. She heard Frank and Cal's voices coming from down the hall.

"Frank wants to see Edith. I don't mind that. He's not so bad," Michael replied. "Especially compared to the rest of them. At least he doesn't go out of his way to make people uncomfortable."

Rose knew he was thinking of her, of the last dinner they attended. "I'm sure everything will be fine," she said reassuringly. "We just won't let them get to us." She placed a light kiss on his jaw, and he smiled brightly.

"You make everything better," he said. "Have I told you that?"

"Once or twice," she said, guilt marring her pleasure in his affection. Why couldn't she be as free with him as he was with her? It hadn't been a problem before Cal showed up. She hadn't been compelled to compare Michael to anyone else. She had been happy. Hadn't she?

Her eyes locked with Cal's when she entered the room. A hint of a smile passed across his face. He took her hand. "Always a pleasure," he said.

"I'm sure it is," she said coolly. She saw the laughter in his eyes. His fingertips brushed across her hand before he released it. She was surprised by the thrill that moved through her. What was wrong with her? She didn't even like Cal.

Michael glared at him but remained silent. This was just the sort of thing Cal did, and he refused to indulge him. Every time the two families met Cal found a way to remind him of his superior status. There were moments of friendliness between them, but Michael always instigated them. No real closeness was possible between them.

But Frank was gracious and kind, his own arrogance filed down and controlled. He genuinely loved Edith, and Rose couldn't help hoping things worked out for them. They looked so happy together. To her surprise, Cal behaved during dinner. He didn't try to provoke her. He watched her, but his gaze wasn't intrusive.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" Michael asked, helping her into her coat.

"No," she answered. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? Rose, it's late."

"You should be getting to be," she said. "You have court tomorrow. I'll be fine. I've walked home alone plenty of times."

"I wish you wouldn't," he said.

The streets were mostly empty, but Rose wasn't afraid. She kept her hands in her coat pockets to warm them. When the car stopped behind her, she kept going. She heard footsteps approaching but ignored them. She didn't look over when Cal fell into step beside her.

"He's right," Cal said. "You shouldn't be out alone at night."

"You're exactly the reason why."

"I wouldn't hurt you," he said sincerely.

"Our history tells a different story."

"I can't overcome that, can I?" he asked.

"No. Please, stop trying. I told you already. Just leave me alone." She quickened her pace, but he kept up with her.

"I can't leave you alone."

"Can't or don't want to?" she shot back.

"Both. Does it matter? Rose, I like being with you."

"You should have thought about that before."

"You're right," he said, taking her hand. She jerked away.

"Don't touch me."

They came to a stop beneath a street light. "You're right," he said again. "I should have thought of that before. I should have done everything differently, and now I've lived to regret my actions."

"You always were good at making speeches," she said dismissively. "But terrible at following through on them."

"Would you listen? Please?"

"Please?" she said drily. "I've never heard you say that word."

"I doubt anyone else has either."

"Cal, it isn't up to me to make you a better person," she said. "Only you can do that. Only you can save yourself, if that's actually what you want."

"But you don't think it is," he said.

"I think you don't like to lose," she replied. "You might regret what you did, but that doesn't mean you feel remorse about any of it. I'm sorry for the way I handled things between us. I am. And not just because it hurt Jack more than it ever could've hurt you. I shouldn't have left the drawing, or if I did, I shouldn't have come back. That was foolish and selfish, but I was angry, and I didn't care. I doubt you can say the same thing."

"What if I could?" he asked.

"What ifs don't get us anywhere. It's what you do that counts. Do you think if you follow me around enough I'll fall in love with you out of exhaustion?"

"I don't think that," he said.

"Then hear me when I tell you no," she said. She could have stopped there, but something pushed her to keep going. "I don't trust you. I never did. Trusting you is impossible because you don't care how anyone else feels. Everything is about what _you_ want. You don't do things to make other people happy; you do them so you can get what you want. Somewhere in you there might be a good man," she went on. "The kind of man I could have loved and could have married, but _I won't_ find him for you. Only you can do that."

He let her words sink in. "I'll leave you alone," he said. There was pain in his eyes. "But I don't want to. I mean it. I like being with you. I don't think I've ever liked being with anyone else as much. I don't want anything from you. I—I like you, Rose." He touched her hand. "Could you try to trust me?" he asked hesitantly. "If I put everything in your hands?"

"I don't think you can do that."

"I can try," he said.

"Why would I want that?" she said. She did want it, though she wasn't sure why. _It's Cal_ , she reminded herself. _Don't be fooled by him._ But she believed him. He had never looked this sincere.

"You're not happy."

"I was unhappier with you," she said.

"That was my fault. But we're not there anymore." He could tell she didn't want to believe him. He didn't quite believe himself. It was the sort of thing he would have said to win over a girl only to forget her a few weeks later. But he wasn't trying to do that now. He meant it, and that scared him.

"If it's up to me, then stop chasing me," Rose said. "If I want you, I'll find you."

 **AN: Hey everyone, if you're reading, please let me know what you think! I'm really into this story, and I'd like to know if anyone else is enjoying it.**


	4. Chapter 4

Rose never intended to contact him. She left that night, sure once again, she would never see him again. But he remained in her thoughts, and the more she tried to banish him, the stronger his presence became. His words replayed in her mind, an endless loop, and wondered if he wasn't right—just a little, right. Cal had a knack for seeing through people, when he wanted to. It was one of the things that made him so successful in business. But he had never turned that gaze on her. Before, he'd never thought he needed to; he believed he knew all there was to know about her. She was simple. Why bother? But now she was feeling the full weight of his scrutiny, and it was disturbing, in more ways than one.

Rose was dreaming about Jack again. She woke each morning, torn between grief and guilt. It wasn't right to spend her nights with him while engaged to Michael, even if it was only in her mind. It felt real, and that's what mattered. Each night she looked forward to those few hours more and more. She knew she was in danger of losing herself in a fantasy, and something had to be done. She had to talk to someone, and Cal was the only one who understood. Michael would be sympathetic, but he could never truly understand, and he would be jealous, though he wouldn't admit it.

Rose hesitated, phone in hand. Was this being unfaithful? She was going to share herself—not her body, but her feelings, and wasn't that just as intimate, if not more? She entertained the thought of talking to Michael, but again, she dismissed the idea. It simply wouldn't work, and she had to let it go.

Cal answered on the first ring, as if he sensed it was her. But his hello was brusque. She pictured him, impatiently tapping his fingers on the table, surrounded by unanswered letters, a forsaken cup of coffee at his elbow. She had never been to his office, but she had seen his study at home. She had seen him there on the mornings he didn't go in to work. His hotel suite wasn't likely to be any different. Even during their trip to Europe he still took calls and answered telegrams. Empires don't run themselves, and they don't wait.

"Hello," she said.

There was surprise in his voice, and happiness. "Rose?"

"Yes. I—"

"I'd almost given up," he said warmly.

"I didn't plan to call."

"Why did you?" he asked.

Rose didn't know what to say. It all sounded so ridiculous now. She was pathetic, unable to move on, clinging to old memories, and reaching out for a man she hated, just to have another link to them. Only, she didn't hate Cal. Not anymore. She wasn't sure how she felt about him. "I wanted to talk," she replied, finally. "I don't have anyone else."

"What about Michael? Can't you talk to him? He's a very understanding man." The sarcasm in his tone was clear.

"He won't understand," she said. "Not this. I wish he would, but telling him would only cause problems between us."

"If you can't talk to him, don't marry him, don't marry him," he said.

"I couldn't talk to you. I don't recall you ever caring very much."

"Going there already?" he said, slightly amused.

"Why not?" Rose's tone as bantering; it matched his. Briefly, she wondered what she was doing. Was this—was it fun? Were they harmlessly teasing one another, with no passive aggressiveness, no malicious intent behind it? She hadn't thought such behavior possible between them. But she hadn't thought she would ever willingly call him, either.

"I suppose we can't make our former relationship off-limits," he conceded. "Too much has happened for that."

"It's why I want to talk to you," she said.

"Interested in trying again?" he teased. "Or does being engaged just not suit you? Michael should be warned about how you react to long engagements."

"Neither," she said drily. "It's because you understand. What happened. The way I feel."

"Yes, I know. I wondered when we'd get to this."

"This was a mistake," she said, suddenly unsure.

"No, it isn't. Rose, don't hang up. You're right. I do understand. We can talk," he said. "Let me see you. I'll come to you."

"No, you can't come here."

"Worried about Michael finding out?"

"It's not that," she answered. The thought of Cal in her small apartment was laughable. He would look out of place, and neither of them would be comfortable. The shabbiness of her surroundings, which she never noticed now, would become impossible to ignore. The rooms she had decorated with such care would seem cheap and cramped. Her life would seem that way too, with Cal there, casting his gold-tinged shadow over everything. Rose didn't think she could bear that. And besides, it was her space. It was almost an extension of herself, her own inner sanctum, and no-one was invited in without careful consideration.

"You want to come here?" he asked skeptically. He glanced around the room. It was one of five in his suite, and he couldn't imagine Rose there, much as he would like to. She wasn't part of this world anymore, if she ever really had been. Meeting here would only widen the gulf between them; it wouldn't make her miss the life she nearly had.

"No, that won't work either," she answered. She twirled the phone cord around her fingers. "Can't we meet somewhere neutral?"

"Like warring factions sitting down for the signing of a treaty?"

"Well, I wasn't thinking of us that way," she said. "But the description fits. I meant somewhere that neither of us has more power."

"I know a place."

….

Rose looked around, surprised to find herself in one of the more Bohemian—and slightly poorer than her own—neighborhoods. She occasionally spent time here, in the small theatres and cafes, but that had been before Michael. He didn't like this sort of atmosphere. Some of his ideals were progressive; he believed in equal rights for everyone, though Rose couldn't actually think of a time when he acted on it, but he was decidedly old-fashioned in some regards. She was struck by doubts. Why was she marrying him? What did they have to talk about? Well, there was art. He appreciated that. But he didn't feel it. The pieces they looked at together never touched him, down in his soul, the way they did her. She told herself that was a good thing. Better not to have someone too much like Jack. Don't go looking for another artist. Now, she wasn't so sure.

Rose arrived at the address Cal had given her, a small café and bookshop. She had been there before, a few times, and the place she remembered wasn't somewhere Cal would ever go. As she went inside, she wondered how he even knew about it, let alone how he came to choose it. He was already there, seated at a table in the corner. A cup of coffee sat in front of him, forgotten. He was engrossed in a sheaf of papers. Unnoticed, she watched him. He frowned in concentration; his shoulders were tense, and his hair appeared in danger of slipping out of place. Something must be wrong indeed. But she didn't care. Did she?

He looked up when she sat down. He smiled; his expression softened, but a heaviness lingered in his eyes. He carefully arranged the papers and put them aside, using movements she recognized. How much of their relationship had survived in her memories, tucked away in the back of her mind? She thought it was all gone, erased by her loathing for him. She looked into his face, seeing its handsomeness for the first time, and wished she hadn't. This wasn't some stranger, some new friend; this was Cal, and however great her need to talk to someone, she must not lose sight of that face. He couldn't be trusted. He said she had all the power, but how could she be certain that wasn't a ploy to get her to let her guard down.

 _You're being paranoid,_ she told herself. _Why would he waste his time with something like that? What could he possibly get out of it?_

"So," he said.

"So."

"You wanted to talk," he reminded her.

"Why did you choose this place?" she asked.

"You asked for a neutral site," he said with a shrug.

"I'd hardly call this neutral. It seems more like my sort of place than yours."

"I've been here before. Several times, when I was in New York…years ago," he replied.

"You were?" she asked curiously.

"Yes, when I was just out of college. I spent some time here. It was long before we met," he added.

"I thought you hated New York."

"I do. Mostly," he said. He looked around the room, with its unknown art on the walls and mismatched furniture. "But I liked this place. They know how to make coffee properly."

Rose laughed without meaning to. "How could I forget your addiction? You'd drink that all day if you could."

"Not all day. I have enough trouble sleeping these days as it is," he said, with a soft chuckle. "But I can't deny how much I enjoy it. You never did, though, did you?"

Rose shook her head. "It's too bitter. It made me feel shaky, and my stomach hurt." The words flowed from her mouth so easily, as if she were talking to someone else. The air around them was relaxed, as if they were just old friends getting together to reminiscence. "So, is it the coffee that brought you here?" she asked.

Cal opened his mouth and closed it again. He hadn't told this story before, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Would it bring Rose's opinion of him even lower? Or would she understand? If anyone would understand, he decided, it would be her. And if they were to move forward, to develop the sort of relationship he wanted, he had to be honest; he had to share everything with her. "It was a girl," he whispered.

Rose lifted an eyebrow. "A girl? That you followed here? I knew you liked going to the wrong side of town, but I never would've guessed this."

"Why not?"

She shrugged. "It seems like too much effort."

"Are you saying I'm lazy?" he said.

"When it comes to courting women, yes. Unless I was a special case."

"Do you really believe that?" he said, slightly offended.

"Yes."

"But I gave you everything," he protested. "Clothes. Jewelry. Those so-called works of art. What else did you want?"

There it was, the question at the heart of their relationship. What did she want? Why wasn't she happy? Why had Jack been the more attractive suitor? "I wanted you to treat me like a friend," she said. "To talk to me like I was an intelligent person and not some child you had to placate or like someone you had to constantly try and seduce, like my body was all you cared about. I wanted you to care about me. Don't you get it? Didn't you see that?"

Cal supposed he had seen it, though he hadn't given much thought to it. It hadn't seemed worth serious consideration at the time. Rose intrigued him; she fascinated and amused him. But as with nearly all women, her body was the main attraction. He longed to touch her, to slip off her clothes and just caress her. He had wanted her more than any other woman, and he believed it was because he couldn't have her. Now, he wasn't so sure. He wasn't sure of anything.

"I didn't think I had to," he admitted. "You needed my help. I wasn't afraid you'd leave. Where would you go? I never thought you would choose poverty over me."

"At least you're being honest. What was so special about this girl that you made an effort?" she said.

 _June 1904_

 _Cassandra was already there when he arrived, seated at a table, surrounded by admirers. Her golden hair caught the light perfectly, and she looked to him like some kind of ethereal being, something more than a mere human. Cal pulled a chair closer to the table. She paused in her story-telling long enough to smile at him. He smiled back, and a warm feeling settled over him, as if he'd been touched. The others either nodded to or ignored him. They generally kept their distance; some regarded him with suspicion. But he didn't care. What did their opinions matter? None of them would ever amount to a thing. Only Cassandra stood any chance of escaping this pit. She could ascend to a higher plane, and he would make sure she did. He would take her away from this place, replace her cheap dresses and costume jewelry with silks and diamonds. As his wife, she would have the best of everything._

 _November 1922_

"So, what happened?" Rose asked.

Cal's grip on his mug tightened. "Let's not talk about this now."

She watched emotions flicker across his face, battling for control. "Alright."

"You wanted to talk," he said. "So, it's your turn."

"I've been dreaming about Jack." There. She's said it. "I haven't done that in a long time," she explained.

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"It is when I'm marrying someone else," she said. "When there only dreams, and I wake up wishing I could go back to sleep…maybe forever."

"Rose, you do you mean you want to—"

"No," she said firmly. "No, nothing like that. I haven't felt that wat since we were—" She stopped. "It's different," she finished, knowing he knew what she meant.

"I made you that unhappy."

"That's how I met Jack," she said. "He talked me out of it. That's why I was on the other side of the railing. I climbed over to jump."

Cal was stunned. Never had he suspected anything like that had happened. He hadn't fully believed Rose's story about slipping while trying to see the propellers, but he hadn't expected the truth to be a suicide attempt. "I'm glad he was there," was all he could say.

"I just want to put that part of my life away," she said. "I want to move on. I can't do that if I see him every time I close my eyes. It reminds me he isn't here, and as wonderful as Michael is, he's not Jack, and part of me wish3es he was. Or that he was more like him. That he challenged me, pushed me to be braver, to live more, that I wanted him so badly I—" she stopped herself again, blushing slightly now. "Perhaps I'm saying too much."

"I'm not sure we can say too much to each other," Cal replied. "We have own intimacy, whether we like it or not. That's why you called me."

Rose knew it was true; hadn't she said as much herself in different words? Looking into Cal's eyes, she was surprised by how kind they seemed. There was none of the cold appraisal, none of the deviousness she remembered. Was this even the same man? Why was he so different now, and more importantly, could she trust it? "I'm not happy," she heard herself say. "I should be. Everything is perfect. Again. And I'm not happy. I think there must be something wrong with me," she went on. "Something that drives me to be unsatisfied."

"Why you think there's something wrong with you?" he asked quietly. "I thought I was responsible for the past."

"How else do you explain what's happening now? I have no-one but myself to blame now. No-one is pushing me to marry him. I made that choice."

"It sounds like you're pushing yourself into it," he said. "Like you don't want this as much as you think you ought to."

His words shook her. "Where was all of this insight before?" she said, trying to keep her tone light. "It would have saved us a great deal of trouble."

"I didn't care enough to really look at you before."

"Well, wanting a ghost over a real man who adores me is absurd, no matter how you put it," she said.

"You don't want the ghost. You just want someone who makes me you feel the way he did, and Michael clearly doesn't, no matter how many times you assure me of his fine qualities."

"But if I don't marry him, I may never find someone else I could stand to live with," she replied. "I'm not pinning my hopes on another man like Jack coming along. Something like that doesn't happen twice."

"Why not?" Cal studied her face, as if looking for clues. "Why are you so cynical?" He didn't like those sorts of statements from her. She wasn't supposed to be world-weary and willing to settle. Rose's spirit wasn't supposed to be subdued; she was supposed to go into the world fighting. He had always loved that about her, even when he was the one fighting her. The demands of their roles and their natures had made a meaningful relationship between them impossible at the time. He clung to the rules, determined to be the man he was brought up to be, sure that would make everything else fall into place. Rose wouldn't leave him, and he couldn't disappoint her. Things would be different with her. But had ended it even before it began, and now he fully understood how badly he wanted another chance. A second-second chance at loving someone.

"I don't know," Rose said. "Maybe I've had too many bad experiences." He looked down into his coffee, and she felt somewhat guilty. It wasn't fair to keep telling him how awful he'd been. He admitted it; he was trying to change things between them. Part of her worried he was just trying to manipulate her again, but she found herself ignoring that part more and more. He was right. Why was she so cynical? It seemed like realism, like just protecting herself, but maybe it wasn't. Maybe she was keeping too much out. "Michael makes me feel safe," she said. "He may not ever challenge me, but I know he won't ever hurt me either. He'll always be there, and that's important. It's different for you; you're a man; you have all the power. You can come and go as you please; marry who you want, but I can't. I have to be careful and pick the right man," she explained. "I don't want to be alone, and if a good friend is the best I'll find now, why shouldn't I choose that?"

"I can't marry anyone I want," he said. "Trust me."

There was something in his face; it was almost regret. She knew he wasn't talking about her. "You tried, didn't you?" she said.

"I'm not sure I would call it that."

"That girl, Cassandra. You wanted to marry her, didn't you?" she went on. He didn't respond. "But they didn't let you."

"I didn't let me," he said. "They didn't lock me in a tower to keep us apart."

"Why didn't they just have her arrested?"

Cal's mouth turned up slightly at the corners. "I guess they weren't as smart as I am," he replied.

"What happened?"

"I wasn't as brave as you," he said. "Or I didn't love her enough. When presented with the same choice, I chose to stay where I was and for her to stay where she was."

"You didn't have enough pulling you to her," Rose said. "You had something to lose. I didn't think I did. Jack just gave me something to run to so I wasn't only running away. You didn't have a reason to run."

"No," he said. "I didn't. That was my first real disappointment. I'd never been told I couldn't have something, and when being with me, in whatever way she could, wasn't enough, I left her. I'm a terrible person, aren't I? Be honest, Rose. You always are. I already know what you think of me."

"No, you don't," she said. "I'm not even sure myself anymore."

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Why?"

"Would you have dinner with me?"

"Yes," she answered.

…..

It occurred to Rose that what she was doing was wrong, but she pushed the thought away. She wasn't running away with Cal. They were just talking, as friends. It sounded odd in her head. Was that what they were now? Their eyes met; he smiled, and she smiled back. Again, she noticed what a handsome man he really was, when he let himself be. That thought had to be wrong. She had to tell Michael about the dinner.

Their conversation moved freely; they were easy with one another in a way they hadn't been before. When Cal laughed it was a rich sound that came from deep within him. Rose's barbs didn't bother him, and he thought he detected something like affection in her voice.

"Well, thank you," she said, when they were outside. "I had a surprisingly wonderful time."

"You're not walking home, are you?"

"What if I am?" she said flippantly.

"It's too cold for that, and it's too late," he said.

"It isn't that late," she pointed out. "And I've survived colder nights."

"Let me give you a ride," he offered.

"No. Cal, thank you, but—"

"Please. I'd like to know toy made it home alright," he said. "I'll walk with you if you're set on walking."

"You wouldn't." But she knew he would. Cal was a stubborn man, and his eyes were determined.

"I'm not trying to—" he said, grasping for the words. "To not hear you saying no. Isn't that what you told me?"

"Where was this before?" she murmured, too low for him to hear. "Fine," she said.

The trip was short, and they talked little. He walked her inside and up to her apartment door. "Thank you again," she said politely.

They faced each other awkwardly. Cal didn't know what to say, but he knew he should speak. "You're welcome," he said. "Thank you. It was a lovely evening."

They moved at the same time, either thinking about what they were doing. Their hands touched, and they looked at each other. The kiss was brief, soft, but with an intensity. Startled, Rose jumped away. "Good-bye," she said, hurrying inside. The door slammed behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: I hope everyone likes this chapter. It may be a bit weird. This whole story may end up being a bit weird, but it's my first Rose/Cal story, and I'm figuring them out as I go.**

"What's wrong?" Michael asked, looking at her closely. "You've hardly eaten a thing."

"I'm fine," Rose said. She swallowed another bite, hoping to convince him. Her food was tasteless; she wasn't even sure what she was eating. Chicken? Had she ordered that? A week had passed since the evening with Cal, and it was still all she could think about. Something had happened, had changed that day, and she couldn't go back to the way things were before.

"You look tired," he said. "Are you having trouble sleeping?"

"No," she said, truthfully. Sleeping was easy; it was the dreams she couldn't take. They were wonderful but painful. Jack was there. He was so real. Solid. She could smell his hair. The previous night's dream had been more like a vision—or perhaps a visit—than a dream. He had been right there with her, in bed, arms around her. She felt him breathe. "I don't want to wake up," she had said.

"Don't talk that way."

"You won't be there."

"Sure I will be," he said. "You just won't be able to see me. I'm never far away, Rose." He lifted her head and kissed her. He could keep her there, if he wanted to. He could have stayed out of her dreams. Now, he realized he probably should have. Being this close was too tempting. "You have to go live," he said.

"Rose? Rose?" Michael's voice brought her back to the present.

"What?" she said distantly.

"Didn't you hear any of that?"

"No. I'm sorry," she said. "I—I've had a lot to think about these past few days." At that moment, looking at Michael across the table, she knew she couldn't marry him. There was no denying it anymore. It had nothing to do with Cal or even Jack. It was about her. She simply didn't love him, not in that way. He would never be anything more than a dear friend. There wasn't passion between them. There never really had been. Marrying him, she realized, might be worse than being alone. It was a sad thought, and she dreaded telling him.

"I said, Edith's getting married."

"She is?" Rose said. "To whom?"

"Frank. You remember, you met him—"

"Oh, yes," she said. "I remember." But it was Cal she thought of. The crackle of their conversation. The way he looked at her, as if he understood her. He didn't, of course. He couldn't, and yet, she felt drawn toward him again. The way he kissed her—no, that was really going too far. "Michael, there's something I have to talk to you about," she said.

"I knew something was wrong. What is it?"

"Well, yes—no," she stammered. "This is rather difficult to say." She paused. He deserved to know everything. "I was engaged once, before we met," she said. "A long time ago, really."

"You never told me that."

"I never tell anyone," she replied. "I didn't love him. I didn't want to marry him. My family wanted me to. I ran away, but before I did, I fell in love with someone else. I was going to marry him—maybe—I was going to go away with him, but—" The look in Michael's eyes stopped her.

"You ran away?" he said quietly.

His expression was so muddled she couldn't tell if he was shocked or sympathetic. "Yes," she said. "I haven't seen anyone from that part of my life since. It was the only way."

"It couldn't have been that bad," he said. "How old were you?"

"Seventeen. And yes, it was," she insisted. "That world—" She shook her head. "It was suffocating."

"But Rose, you were just a child," he said. "If you looked at the situation again, I'm sure you'd see your family was only looking out for your best interests."

Rose stared at him in horrified disbelief. Could it really be Michael saying these things? Who was this man she had agreed to marry, after all? "If I was old enough to marry a man nearly twice my age," she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. "I couldn't have been much of a child."

"Rose, you know what I meant," he protested. "You—"

"Yes, I think I do know," she said coolly.

"At least tell me what happened next," he said, trying to make peace. "What about this man you ran away with?" He tensed as he said it.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

"What?"

"Say it that way."

"I didn't say it any certain way," he argued.

"It bothers you, doesn't it? All of it."

"Well, you must admit it's a bit of a shock. I always assumed your family was dead, since you never wanted to talk about them…and I kind of thought I was the only man you'd ever cared for," he said.

"It bothers you that you aren't."

"No," he said. But they both knew he was lying. "Maybe it changes the way I see you, knowing your ran away with someone once."

"The way you see me? What does that mean, exactly?" she said.

"I don't really need details, I guess."

"Because it would damage my image even further?" she said. "You may as well admit it."

"It's also that you waited so long to tell me. It's like you were hiding it from me. If there's nothing to be ashamed of, why keep it a secret for so long?" he asked.

"I didn't think you would understand," she replied. "I didn't think it was important that you know. I was trying to move on, to let go, but now I see this wasn't the way to do it."

"What are you saying, Rose?"

She picked up her coat and bag. "I'm sorry, Michael. I can't marry you."

…..

The next morning Rose woke up with no memory of what had happened. Her sleep was so thick, more like a dreamless haze than sleep, but then she remembered. Despite everything, Michael had said, she felt more guilt than relief. He had been stunned. Angry. And he had a right to be. No matter what she said, she hadn't been able to make him understand how she felt.

"But why?" he kept asking.

"I don't love you like that," she said. "Like—"

"Like him? Like the one you ran away with?" There was a jealous edge in his voice.

"Yes," she said sadly. "I thought I could, but I can't."

"You've been comparing us," he accused.

"No! I never did that. I liked how different you were from Ja—from him," she said. But by the time they finally parted, she was exhausted from trying to explain.

"We'll talk tomorrow," Michael said.

"There's no reason to—"

"I love you. I don't intend to let this be the end," he said. "You're just upset right now, Rose."

"I may be upset, but I still know how I feel."

"Of course you do," he said. "And things will be clearer in the morning."

Now it was the morning, and she still didn't want to marry him. She didn't want to talk to him either. The only thing to do was get out of her apartment. If she was there when he arrived, they would have to talk. It was a Saturday, so he was sure to be there soon.

Rose dialed the numbers quickly, as she had known she would.

….

Any tension between them was broken when she stepped into his suite and said, "You don't look like yourself."

Cal was pale; there were dark circles under his eyes. His hands seemed to be on the verge of shaking. "I was hoping you came here to criticize me," he said.

"That wasn't criticism; it was concern."

"Oh." His voice was flat and lifeless.

"You don't look well," Rose said.

"I don't feel well," he admitted.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. It's just a headache. I get them sometimes," he replied.

Rose looked around the room, taking in the cluttered desk and the harsh lamps. "I don't wonder," she said. She clicked off the lamps. "This light will do it easily. Light hurts you, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"And sounds?" she asked. The phone rang, and he winced. "The same thing happens to me," she said.

"Often?"

"Fairly regularly. At least once a month."

He watched as she drew the shades and lit the candles he'd thought of as pointless decorations. "Better?" she asked.

"Yes," he said gratefully. "What are you doing now?" he added as she unplugged the phone. "I need that—"

"You need to rest," she said firmly. "The empire won't crumble if you don't take telephone calls for one day."

"It might," he argued. "The emperor can't just disappear."

"Do you really still think of yourself that way?" she asked disappointedly. Maybe she had been wrong after all.

"It is an empire. You said so yourself."

"It's not the only one."

"No," he agreed. "Why don't we sit down?"

They say on the couch, careful not to get too close. "You didn't come here to help with my migraines," Cal said.

"But I might as well since I'm here."

"Rose, please. After what happened the other—"

"I don't want to talk about that," she said. "I wanted to see you. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

He smiled slightly. "Yes."

"I always appreciated when you were honest. Most of the time you were, though I might have liked you more if you hadn't been," she added with a laugh.

"Why did you want to see me?"

"I don't know. I've been thinking about you," she answered.

"I thought about you," he said. He was supposed to go home that week, but the hope that Rose would call had kept him in New York.

"I told Michael. He didn't take it well."

"You told him about us?" Cal said incredulously.

"No. I didn't tell him any details. No names. He could barely handle the outline of the story," she explained. "He said…" She shook her head.

"What?"

"It was as if he were calling me crazy," she said. "Saying things couldn't have been that bad, that I didn't know my own mind."

"Well, what sane girl wouldn't want to marry me?"

"Be serious."

"I was," he said. She laughed. "I like the way you laugh, so I'll accept that," he added.

"He was jealous. I was afraid he would be. I expected him to be, a little, I suppose. I didn't expect him not to understand at all. Michael's always been so—"

"Dull?" he finished.

"Kind," she corrected.

"Perfect."

"Decent. No-one is perfect." She sighed. "Maybe I was wrong. He said the way he saw me had changed."

"I don't think he ever saw the real you," Cal said.

"What makes you say that? What makes you think you have?"

"I have," he said knowingly.

"You didn't like me," she pointed out. "You didn't like that girl at all."

"How could I? She ran from me. Fought with me. Sometimes she scared me because I couldn't understand her. I couldn't make her want me the way I did with other girls."

"I'm still that girl," Rose reminded him. "A little different, but mostly the same."

"I know."

"So why are we here then?"

"We want to be," he said. The soft lighting and near silence were helping, but his head still ached. It ran from the base of his skull to the back of his eyes. He had more to say, but the words wouldn't form. He closed his eyes and pressed a fist to his forehead. For a few seconds, the pressure helped.

"Do you have any ice?" Rose asked. He gestured toward the other side of the room. Speaking was beyond him for the moment.

"Try this," she said, pressing a small towel full of ice to the back of his head.

After a few minutes he could open his eyes and speak again. "That helps," he said.

"You should also try holding it around your eyes," she advised.

"I can hold it now."

"I know." She didn't let ho.

When the ice began melting she fetched more. They lay on the couch, or leaned, more accurately, he with his head against her. "Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Why are you helping me so much?"

"I want to. Maybe because you needed it. Or because you're letting me. You were never like this before."

"I probably shouldn't be now," he said.

"You're so much better this way."

"What way? Ill?"

"No," she said. "Human."

The day wore on. They didn't talk much. It didn't seem necessary. They felt something, but neither could explain it. Saying they wanted to be together, right then, just to be together, was the closest they could have come to putting it into words.

….

"Are you hungry?" Cal said up. She was hard to see in the dim lit. The candles were almost burned out. "Because I am," he went on.

"You must feel better."

"I do." He touched her face. "Thank you."

Rose moved his hand. "It's getting late. I should go," she said.

"It's not late. It just gets dark early now. You can stay," he said. "If you want to."

"I'm not sure I should." She held his hand. It wasn't the way she remembered it. It was less threatening now. It was a nice, solid hand. His whole body was solid and well-muscled. She was aware of it in a way she hadn't been before.

As if sensing her thoughts he said, "You should do what you want to do. No wasting life, remember?"

"Oh, that isn't fair," she said, shaking her head. But he was right.

"Maybe it wasn't. It doesn't make it any less true."

"I can't trust you if you try and manipulate me."

"I wasn't," he said. "I don't think you should run away from what you want."

"And you know what I want?"

"I might," he replied.

"You know what you want. That's not the same thing."

"I want you," he said slowly. "Not just—" It was so difficult to say. "I can't make you want me, if you don't. I didn't make you come here, Rose. I won't try to make you stay."

"Sometimes I'm afraid I only want to be with you because I think it will get me closer to that time," she said. "But then I think I'm just afraid to admit how I feel about you. It sounds wrong. Like a betrayal, almost. I ran away from you."

"I was a different person then."

Rose looked into his eyes. Once they had been hard and cold, but now they were soft and warm. She hadn't seen that cold look in them, she realized, in all their time together. "Were you?" she said. Slowly, he reached out and touched her hair. Her curls were as soft as he always imagined they would be. His fingers slipped through them. He moved closer to her. "You could become that man again," she said.

"I don't want to be him," he said.

"He had everything."

"He wasn't happy," Cal said. "I thought I could bend the world and make it do anything I wanted, but I couldn't. I can't. And I'm tired of trying. I've been tired of it for a long time."

"I'm not the world," she said. "I'm just one woman."

"You aren't just anything, Rose."

Their eyes met. He bent down, as if to kiss her. Rose held her breath. She was almost afraid to let herself want the kiss. But he kissed her forehead. Softly, sweetly. He rested his head against hers. She breathed in his scent. She didn't know if it was the same. Back then, she had tried to avoid getting close enough to smell him. It was nice, though. It suited him. "I'll stay," she said.

…..

Those rooms became a world, a place they created for themselves, away from the real world. Cal forgot to plug the telephone back in. He forgot Rose ever unplugged it. His papers, those memos and letters, the deals that desperately needed his attention, his signature, were forgotten. Rose didn't think about Michael or the discussion she never wanted to have. She didn't care if she was equipped to stay more than a few hours. Pesky details like clean clothes and toothbrushes didn't matter. It sounded crazy, but she was beginning to trust her feelings.

They lay on the couch, barefoot, one on each end. Their legs touched, almost intertwined. Touching too much seemed dangerous. Whatever this was, it was fragile, and they sensed this fact. If they broke it now, there would be no fixing it. For Cal the entire experience was new. Never had he just sat and talked with a woman. He had talked _at_ plenty of them, but he'd never been interested in talking _to_ them. Rose laughed when he told her this. "And that's all I wanted from you," she said. "But conversations don't cost money, so of course, you don't value them."

"I represent my world splendidly," he replied. "Graceful chatter is all we can stand and all you can expect from an emperor."

"Tell me about your life," she urged.

"You know everything already. You were given my impressive biography."

"Not that. I don't care about your column on the Society page," she said.

"What about the Business section? It's more impressive."

"Be serious, Cal."

"I am," he said. "I never joke about money or my work."

"You love it."

"My work?" He smiled. "Yes. I'm good at it."

"You feel safe there," she said.

"I feel safe anywhere," he replied, resisting her implication. "Why wouldn't I?

"I forgot men always feel safe."

"What do you want to know?" he asked.

"Tell me more about when you were young, the Cal who spent his days in Bohemian cafes chasing artists' models," she said.

"I tried to forget him."

"Maybe you shouldn't. I might have liked him."

"Only liked?" he said.

"Tell me. Please."

So he told her, slowly. He waded through the memories, shocked, at times, buy why he recalled. Had he really done those things? The most shocking thing of all was how _happy_ he remembered being.

…..

"So, what did you do?" she asked.

"I paid the fine," he said. "No-one else was going to do it. We couldn't stay there."

"They wouldn't have held you for long, would they?"

"I don't know," he replied. "I didn't want to find out. I didn't want my family hearing about it. They were already furious about my decision to stay in New York. My father threatened to cut off my allowance."

"Oh, really?" She raised an eyebrow. "And if he had?"

"I think we've established I did anything necessary to avoid that."

"Can't handle the world without the protection of your money?" she teased.

"No, I'm not sure I can," he said somberly.

"That's rather sad."

"At least I'm honest," he said.

When they finally admitted it was time for bed, there was an awkward moment as they tried to decide what to do. The suite had only one bed, but it was big enough for three people. Cal had never just slept next to a woman. The idea would have been unthinkable. Until that night. He found himself wanting to sleep next to Rose, just to be near her. "Do you want—" he began awkwardly.

"I can sleep in here," she offered. Going home just didn't seem like an option anymore. Leaving would break the bond forming between them. She knew it would. She would get scared and not come back. Just as she would have done if she'd left Jack after the kiss on the bow. Whatever this was, it had to be seen through to the end.

"No, you shouldn't do that. It's not—you won't be comfortable. I will."

But they slept together, on opposite edges of the bed. At some point, they moved closer together. Cal woke up with his arm around her. Her curls touched his face. The room was dark. The only sound was their breathing. But he sensed another presence in the room. He looked around, but there was no-one. The feeling wouldn't go away. As he fell asleep again, he couldn't shake his certainty that he was being watched. More than watched. Stared at. Scrutinized.


	6. Chapter 6

They couldn't stay in those rooms forever, but for the next day they pretended they could. Cal shook her lightly, to wake her. "What do you want for breakfast?" he asked.

"What?" Rose lifted her head and looked around. Sunlight streamed through the windows. "Is it morning already?" she said. She turned to him. "You're dressed."

"I like being dressed."

"I know. Were you _asking_ me what I want for breakfast?" she said. "I don't think you've ever asked what I wanted to eat."

"Of course I have," he said.

Rose shook her head. "No. You always ordered my food for me."

"I always do that," he said remembering. "For all women."

"Why?"

"I don't know," he said. "I grew up seeing it, maybe. What would you like?"

"See if you can remember what I like."

But he couldn't. He remembered meals they'd eaten together, but he had chosen them based on his own preferences. He didn't have the slightest idea what Rose would want. So, he ordered everything and had it sent up. Rose laughed when she saw the tableful of food. "Are we supposed to eat all of this?" she said.

"I couldn't remember," he explained.

"Yes, I see. Well, come on. Sit down."

They avoided talking about any need to leave. The next day they both would have to go back out into the real world, and they feared this new intimacy would dissolve when they did. Rose couldn't help but think of the way she had run away with Jack after the drawing. Instinctively, she'd known if they were caught something would change. Going outside felt a lot like being caught. This wasn't something they were supposed to be doing.

…

"I learned to play the violin," Cal said.

"Really?" She leaned forward, intrigued.

"Yes."

"Do you still play?" she asked.

"No. I don't even have my old one anymore," he answered.

"Why not?"

"I had more important things to focus on," he said. "It was never going to bring in money. It was just a childish hobby, really."

"You could have been a musician," she argued.

He laughed. "Do you think that would have been allowed?"

"You can't worry about that. You have to do what makes you happy. Think of it. You could have married Cassandra and been a violinist."

"I'm not sure she would have been happy with that," Cal said. "She wasn't like you."

"Maybe that's what I need," she said, half-jokingly. "A violinist. The serious and I can't seem to get along. I should get back to artists."

Cal wondered if he could still play.

….

Rose insisted they eat the untouched breakfast plates for lunch. "We can't waste all of this food," she said.

"Does it really matter?" Cal asked.

"Of course it does. Not everyone can afford to throw so much away."

"But I can," he reminded her.

"That doesn't mean you should," she said.

"But what's the point of having money if you don't enjoy it?" he asked, as they finished a stack of cold pancakes—which were better than he expected.

"There are better ways of enjoying it."

"Like what?"

"Are you asking for a list?" she said.

"Why not?"

"Well, there's the freedom of money," Rose said. "When you have it, you can do anything you want. No-one can stop you. You've taken that too far, at times," she added wryly.

"If money is freedom, why give it up?"

"Because it didn't make me free," she explained. "It wasn't mine."

"No," he said. "I guess it wasn't."

…

"I wanted to go to a university," Rose said.

"I never knew that."

"Why would you have?"

"Do you want me to feel ashamed?" Cal asked. "For not knowing so many things about a woman I once intended to marry?"

"You already do. What difference does it make if I want you to?"

Frequently, their conversation went in circles like this. There were so many questions to ask. They wanted to know everything now, finally. Threads were dropped and picked up again later. They always knew what the other was referring to.

"What did you want to study?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied. "History. Literature. Philosophy, maybe."

"No hope of making money with any of that," he said.

"Being poor isn't so bad."

"Many poor people would disagree," he pointed out.

"It hasn't been so bad for _me_ ," she corrected. "But I chose it, and I'm completely unburdened. I know my struggles aren't so great."

"I sense a but," he said.

"But they are mine. I won't have anyone say they were any less than they are. Making my life over, alone, was more difficult than anything else I've ever done. I could never have anticipated how hard it would be. That isn't much, but it is _mine_."

"It's more than I could do," he said.

"Maybe you just weren't ready yet."

"Maybe I never will be," he replied.

….

"Tell me more," Rose urged. A fire glowed cheerfully opposite them. A bitterly cold wind whipped the trees outside their window. They lay on the couch again, legs touching. After some teasing, he had finally taken off his shoes. He tried not to notice when their bare feet touched. She still wore the dress from the day before. He wanted to offer her something, but what? One of his shirts? His pajamas? Would she even have accepted if he had? The image of her clad in only his shirt flashed before his eyes. He saw her legs, long and fair, and wondered what touching them would be life. Was she having similar thoughts? He didn't dare ask. This new hesitance went along with being with her, he'd discovered.

"There isn't much to tell," Cal said.

"I know that's not true. Please?"

"Fine," he said, with an exaggerated sigh. "I was sent to Germany every year after that."

"And you stayed with the same cousins?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you like talking about this?" she asked. "Was it so very awful, dear?"

He tried not to smile at the term of affection. It was said lightly but without the animosity of before. "No, actually, it wasn't," he said. "I had wonderful times there. I looked forward to those summers."

"I'm trying to imagine you as a small boy, speaking German and playing with the village children."

"Why does that picture fascinate you so much?"

"It's so unlike the way you always are," she said. "Or were. You're not so bad lately."

"Why, thank you."

"When did you stop going?" she asked.

"I was around sixteen, I guess," he said. "I'd gotten too old to spend my summers that way."

"How did you spend them then?"

"With my father," he said. "I preferred Germany."

"But you learned how to make money. Isn't that what's important?"

"I learned to make it, keep it, spend it, love it. It's probably a good thing you didn't marry me," he said pensively. "I was already married to my fortune."

"Aren't you still?" she said.

"No."

…..

The feeling of being watched wouldn't leave. Rose didn't seem to notice it, but Cal didn't know how it wasn't bothering her. He could have sworn there was someone else in the room with them. But that was ridiculous. He kept himself from turning to look. Who would be there? And how would they have gotten in?

It made sleeping difficult that second night. He closed his eyes and pretended not to see a gaze on him. Rose drifted off easily, far away on her side of the bed. He wanted to hold her but didn't. The presence stopped him.

…

"I have to go home," Rose announced.

He knew it, but he said, "You don't have to," anyway.

"I have to go to work, and I have to change first."

"So do I," he said. "Everyone probably thinks I've died."

"I'm sure they're very sad about it."

"Planning how to take over more like," he said.

"Well," she said awkwardly.

"Well."

"I suppose you're going back home soon."

"Yes, I have to," he said. "But I can come back."

"You couldn't possibly run away again."

"Sure I can, if I have a reason to," Cal said. "Do I?"

His eyes were soft and almost pleading. Rose felt herself getting lost in them. Was this really happening? It seemed like a dream. "Yes," she said. "You do." She held out her hand, and he took it, covering it with both of his. She was very aware of her breathing. Her heart pounded in her ears, and she wondered if he could hear it too. Slowly, they moved closer.

"Rose," he whispered. His voice was like a caress."

"Why didn't you say it that way before?" she asked, as their lips met. His arms felt good around her. She felt safe, as if nothing could touch her. It was a feeling she hadn't known since the last time Jack held her.

….

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Rose was warm despite the draft library. She didn't mind the dark walk home. Cal had tried to leave the car and driver with her, but she wouldn't hear of it.

"You need it," he argued.

"No, I don't. No-one really does," she said. He hadn't wanted to give in, but he finally did.

Michael was the last person she expected to see, but there he was, waiting outside her door. "Rose!" he cried. "There you are." He reached for her. "I've been worried. Where have you been?"

She could tell his concern was genuine, but it didn't change anything. "Why are you here?" she asked.

"I came over Saturday, to talk, like we said," he explained. "But you were gone. You never came home. You didn't answer my calls. I was afraid something had happened to you." He took hold of her arms. "Did it?"

"No," she said. But was that true? Hadn't something happened? "Nothing happened. You didn't need to worry. I'm fine."

"Then where were you? Why didn't you answer your telephone?"

"I don't believe I owe you an explanation," she said. "We aren't engaged anymore. I asked you not to come here Saturday. What I do is only my business now."

"Rose, surely you don't still—"

"Yes, I do."

"But Rose, there's no reason to call everything off," Michael protested. "We just had a misunderstanding, that's all. It happens."

"If that's all it were, things might be different, but it was much more than that," she replied.

"Look. I know I didn't take that story very well, but you have to admit, it was a bit of a shock. I needed time to get used to it."

"You reacted honestly," Rose said. "I can't ask for anything else. You've never be alright with my having a past. Let's not pretend you will be. And besides, there are more issues than that."

"Like what?"

"I can't explain them all," she said. "And I won't try again. Michael, please, understand. I cannot marry you. I thought I could, but I can't. It wouldn't work."

"Why? I love you."

"Do you really?" she asked. "Or do you love the version of me in your mind? We've seen how easily that image can be tarnished."

"Maybe that was a poor choice of words, and maybe it does bother me that there was another man before me. I don't like the idea of him with you. But why should that keep us apart? Isn't that for me to decide?"

"No," Rose said firmly. "We both have the right to our pasts, to our lives, before we met, and that's only part of the problem," she went on. "I don't love you, not enough, not like that. I wanted to, Michael, I really did. I've tried, but I know now I can't. If I married you it would be safe and pleasant but never—" She searched for the right words but none came. "Please, understand."

Michael's eyes were flinty. "I understand," he said coldly.

"I'm sorry. I—"

"I've give you some time," he said. "Think about things."

She didn't say anything as he left. It was no use, and she knew it.

…..

The suite felt too big and empty without Rose there. It was colder. Cal packed his things himself, to save time, and left, leaving a message for Frank at the desk. He caught the next train back to Pittsburg. The business was waiting. His friends, his real life—or as this his real life now?—were waiting for him there. But all he wanted was to stay in New York, with Rose.

He pictured her bent over her desk. No, she was more likely to be up, shelving books, maybe. She moved quickly, efficiently. It was a nice image. At that moment he realized he wanted to marry her. It was real this time; it wasn't a superficial desire. He hadn't married in their years apart because no other woman compared to her. She was the only one who interested him, who challenged him, who brought out his protective side, the tenderness he had forgotten even existed, that he'd tried to hide, even from her. _She's right_ , he thought. _Why didn't I say it that way before?_

But he was getting a second chance now, and he didn't intend to waste it.

….

The telephone was ringing as Rose opened the door. She dropped her things and hurried over to it. "Hello," she said breathlessly.

"Hello," he said pleasantly.

She smiled. "I wondered if you'd call."

"I waited as long as I could," he said.

"Oh, a whole day?"

"Two whole days," he replied. "But I spent some of that time on the train."

"How did to find things back home?"

"Just about the same as they were before I left. Some people were upset by the way I disappeared over the weekend," he said.

"Are you in trouble?" she laughed.

"Oh no, nothing that serious," he said, with a chuckle of his own. "How are you, Rose?"

"I'm fine. I'm the same as when you left."

"I miss you," he said.

"You do?"

"I didn't think I'd have so much trouble sleeping alone again," he said. "It was only two days."

"Two days can change your life forever," she said. "Believe me. I know."

"Do you still want me to come back?" he asked.

"Yes. Why would you ask?"

"Things might be different now that we're away from each other."

"I was afraid they would be," she replied. "But they aren't. I still feel the same way."

"So do I."

"You sound so far away," she said.

"I'm not," he assured her. "Rose, if you need anything—"

"I don't. I'm fine."

"But if you do," he insisted. "If that ability to take care of yourself that I've tried not to admire isn't enough, call me. I wish you'd let me leave you the car."

"We've been over this. I don't need it."

"I don't like the way you walk around the city alone at night," he said.

"I refuse to let fear about what may or may not happen limit my life."

"That's why you should use my driver," he said. "We would both be happy then."

Rose laughed. Even through the crackle of the long distance wires it was musical. "Isn't that what we've been trying to make happen?" she said.

"I am happy," Cal replied.

"So am I." Rose was surprised by how strong the feeling was. Had it really been so long since she felt this kind of joy? She almost didn't recognize it at first.

"I'll come back soon," Cal promised. "I have to stay here for a few days, at least." Asking her to come there was out of the question, if only because he knew she wouldn't. He understood why.

"I'll be here. Take however much time you need," she said.

"Rose—" he began. Was it too soon to say it? But it was what he felt; he was certain.

"Don't. Not yet, not like this," she said. "When you come back."

…

She loved him. Rose hadn't said it out loud yet, but she admitted it to herself. There was no-one else to tell. She wished she had someone to talk to. She and Edith were friends, but she wasn't an option anymore. Maybe, in the future, they could be close again, but it was impossible now. The realization that one of her closest friends was lost to her now filled her with sadness. Rose hated the way things had gone with Michael. Hurting him was the last thing she wanted, but now here he was, hurt, angry, and possibly still clinging to the hope that they would eventually reconcile.

Rose hoped he would let go; he really had been a wonderful friend.

Cal was her friend. But she couldn't talk to him about this, about him. Cal was her friend. It was still such an odd thought. Cal was more than her friend. He was—what? Her lover? But they'd only talked and slept; they hadn't made love. Their entire relationship so far had been rather chaste, even more so than the first time, when he was always in pursuit of her.

How could things have changed so much? How could he got from being a man who repulsed her, whom she hated, to being the man she loved? But he wasn't the same man anymore. The years had changed him, or maybe they had brought out things he kept hidden. When she picture him, younger, as a boy, then as a young man, during his college adventures, she saw someone similar to the Cal she knew now.

"You understand, don't you Jack?' Her voice echoed in the empty apartment. She chided herself for expecting an answer. But he watched, silent and invisible. Anything more was just too tempting lately.

….\

"Who's the girl?" Frank asked.

"What do you mean?" Cal said.

"I heard you talking about going back to New York next week. I can't think of another reason why you'd go back so soon."

"Maybe you shouldn't think about it at all," Cal said crisply.

"You know I'm moving there soon, for Edith."

"You aren't living with her here?"

"I don't think that would work," Frank said. "I'm going to work out of the New York office, starting next month."

"I've been thinking we should expand our interests there," Cal said.

"Really?"

"Everywhere, actually," Cal answered. He wasn't confined to one city or even one part of the country. Why couldn't he and Rose go somewhere together, away from his family and their history? The feeling that he was being watched came over him again, but he tried to ignore it.


	7. Chapter 7

Cal didn't tell her he was coming. It had been three weeks since he left New York, and in that time they'd spoken on the phone nearly every day. Most of their conversations weren't long. Cal paid for the long distance charges, but Rose still wouldn't stay on the phone very long.

"It isn't right for you to pay for all of it," she said. "I'm here too."

"But I _can_ pay for it," he reminded her. "Easily."

"I don't care."

And that was that. He didn't argue with her. Nothing he said would have changed her mind, and he didn't want to waste the few minutes they had. Every day he looked forward to their phone call. And now, thanks to some careful maneuvering, he was going back, for a month at least.

…

As he stepped off the train, Cal wondered if he'd done the right thing by not telling her. He wanted to surprise her, but what if she thought he was being presumptuous? Was it fair to just show up at her apartment unannounced? He went to the hotel first and changed. Still unsure, he called her.

"This is earlier than usual," he said.

"I have some free time."

"And you wanted to spend it with me?" she said.

"Yes," he replied.

Rose laughed. "You don't ever joke, do you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're always so serious," she said. "So stern. Imposing."

"Are those bad things to be?"

"If you take them too far," she replied. "It's alright to laugh a little, dear."

"I like when you call me that."

"I know," she said, smiling.

"So, you don't have any plans tonight?" he asked.

"No. Why?"

"I was just curious," he said, smiling to himself.

…..

Rose did have things to do that night, thought they weren't the sort of things Cal would ever think about. She had an apartment to clean, a shopping list to make, and books to read. She had just finished with the kitchen when she heard him knock. Quickly, she re-tied her hair and dried her hands. Her eyes widened in astonishment when she found Cal waiting in the hallway.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "I thought you were still in Pittsburg."

"I left last night," he said. "I thought I'd surprise you." Her hair was still unruly, despite her efforts, and she wore an old, faded dress and no shoes. But she was lovely to him. She really didn't need ornate gowns or jewels, he realized, again, though he still wanted to cover her in them.

"Well, you certainly did that," she said. "Come in." Rose was surprised by how at ease she felt. She'd expected to be self-conscious the first time he came to her apartment. It was so small and shabby compared to the places he lived. It was crammed with book shelves. There was art on the walls. She only had a tiny kitchen, bathroom, and a bed/sitting room. Her bed was in a sort of nook, with windows around it. She had only a few chairs. Cal looked around, taking everything in. "Go on, you can say it," she said.

"Say what?"

"Say you hate it. I know you do."

"I don't," he said. "It reminds me of you."

"And that's a good thing?"

"That's a very good thing," he said.

"I'm cleaning right now," she said apologetically. "Do you mind if I finish?"

"No. I'll just—" He searched for an occupation.

"You could help," she suggested.

"Help?" he said. "I wouldn't know how. I've never cleaned a room before." As he said it, he knew how ridiculous it must sound to her. But she was from the same world; she had to understand.

"Then it's time you learned," she said, putting a dust rag in his hand.

Cal looked at it as if it might bite him. "What do you want me to do?"

"The kitchen's finished," she said. "We need to dust in here. Sweep. Clean the windows. Change the sheets."

"Dust everything?"

"Yes," she replied. "The furniture polish is on the table. You don't really need to use it on the books. Just run the cloth over them."

Rose swept while he dusted. She watched him, amused by his slow, uncertain movements. "It's not so bad, is it?" she said.

"It isn't something I would choose to do."

She laughed. "Well, it has to be done."

"Why not hire some to do it for you?" he asked.

"With what?"

"Oh. I guess you don't have that kind of money," he said.

"Did you forget?" she teased.

"Sometimes, I do," he said. "You're so at ease, so confident. You seem like you have plenty of money."

"Or it's just I know I can survive without it."

"I envy you," he said.

"You learn how," Rose replied. "It isn't always easy. It seemed impossible at first, but I never gave up. I figured out how to get by on my own. You have no idea how good it feels, taking care of myself after all those years of being told I couldn't. I was too delicate. I should just be quiet and look pretty."

"I was one of the people who told you that," he said.

"You didn't want me to _just_ sit there being pretty," she said. Her tone made her meaning clear.

Cal avoided her gaze. "I know," he said, dusting faster now. "I was wrong. I was awful."

"You weren't different from anyone else we knew."

"Then we're all wrong. I never saw you as a person," he said. "You weren't like me. I mattered; I was a real person. You didn't."

"I know, dear. You don't have to go over it all again," she said. "We've moved on, haven't we?"

He turned to face her. "Yes. I want up to you, though, somehow."

Rose put a hand on his face. "You are," she said. "Being here with me, the way you did last time, the way you are now. Letting me see you."

"You see me?" he said. "Is that a good thing?"

"It's good," she said. "It's wonderful."

Cal shifted nervously. The air was thick, and his heart pounded. Her eyes filled the world, and he wondered if it was possible to drown in them. "I wish I'd—"

"Don't," she said. "We can't change the past, and I'm not sure I'd want to."

"A past with me, a good one, would mean never loving Jack," he said. "You don't want to lose that."

"No, I don't. Can you live with that?"

"As long as I get you know," he said.

Jack watched from his perch on the bookcase, fighting the urge to chase Cal out of there, frighten him so badly he'd never come near Rose again, so he could be alone with her again. So things could go back to the way they were. But that wouldn't be fair. He couldn't take happiness away from her. Hadn't he been the one who wanted her to live as much as she could?

He still wanted that. He just hated that he didn't get to do any of that living with her. Jack was surprised by how much he preferred Cal over Michael. Her smiles were brighter with him. He seemed to understand her. But he'd hurt her, and Jack wasn't about to let it happen again.

…..

Cal looked around, proud of his efforts. "So, that's all there is to it," he said.

"This was light cleaning," Rose replied. "Just wait until it's time for spring cleaning."

He liked the way she said it, as if it were a given that he would still here there when spring arrived. "What now?" he asked.

"Now I have to make a shopping list for tomorrow."

"Really?" he said, interested.

"Don't get too excited. I'm only shopping for food."

"Speaking of, how about put that aside until later, and we have dinner," he suggested. "It's getting late. You must be hungry. I am."

"I wasn't planning to have a big dinner," she said. "I don't have much right now. Before you arrived, I was just going to have a sandwich while I read."

Cal frowned. "Is that all?"

"Yes. It's a perfectly acceptable meal."

"You need more than that," he said. "Aren't you hungry again later?"

Rose didn't want to admit that yes, sometimes she was. Even now, after years of budgeting and learning how to make her small earnings last, there were still weeks when the money ran out too quickly, or when an unexpected expense left her short, and she ate only coffee and rolls. Some nights she stayed up reading or knitting, not because she wanted to, but because she was hungry and couldn't sleep. "No," she said. "I don't need much."

Cal studied her face. He knew she was lying. Finally he said, "Then neither do I."

….

Rose didn't have a couch. They didn't bother with the chairs, silently agreeing they wouldn't do. They needed to be closer than chairs would allow. They ended up on the floor, backs against her bed. "I haven't sat on the floor in years," Cal said.

"Of course you haven't," Rose said, pleasantly. Their hands were clasped, their bare feet touching. "You don't have arches," she noticed.

"No. I never did."

"I didn't know that could happen."

"It's not common," he said. "My parents worried about it."

"Really?"

"They sent me to doctors to make sure I would learn to walk properly," he said.

"That sounds awful," she said sympathetically.

Cal shrugged. "They don't accept imperfections."

"I know. I've met them."

"They liked you though, remember?"

"Do you think they're like me now?" she laughed

"No," he said honestly. Their faces were close. She tried not to look at his mouth, but it was difficult when he kept looking at hers. "It doesn't matter," he added. Was it his imagination, or were they moving closer? "I love you," he said, as their lips met.

His arms were around her now. Rose wanted to reply but not more than she wanted to kiss him. Their kisses were never like this before. They had always been cold and perfunctory on her side and harsh and demanding on his. But now they fit perfectly together, giving affection freely. Rose's hand moved through his hair. It was so much softer than she'd ever realized. They were breathless when it ended. "I love you," he said again, into her hair.

Rose buried her face in his shirt. "You never said that to me."

"I've only said it to one other person," he replied.

"If I say it, you can't die. You can't leave me as soon as you hear it."

"I won't," Cal promised. "I won't fail you again."

What was she doing? Was she crazy? She heard her former self furiously scolding, demanding an explanation. She was trusting Cal, of all people? She thought she was in love with _him_? But she was; she knew it. Nothing had felt this right since Jack. She didn't know why it was happening, but she didn't want it to end. "I love you too," she said.

Jack bit his fingers to stay quiet. _But I love her!_ he yelled silently. _I loved her first._

…..

"I'm going to be in New York a lot more," Cal said. "I've arranged it so I can work from here."

"So, I won't be seeing you after all," Rose said jokingly.

"No, you will. That's why I did it."

She laughed and shook her head. "What's it like being able to do anything you want?"

"Lonely," he said. "It makes you a horrible person, or at least, it made me one. Eventually, no-one worth caring about wants to be anywhere near you."

"You don't have to use all of that power selfishly," she said. "There are so many good things you could do instead."

"I can think of a few things to do for you."

"I'm not talking about me," she replied. "I'm fine."

"Let me help you anyway," he said. "I want to."

"No," Rose insisted.

"I'm not talking about luxuries. I know you've cast those off forever," Cal said. "I'm talking about practical things, things you need."

"What I can't get I'll manage without," she said. "It isn't so bad."

But Cal was unconvinced. Her apartment was too small and draft. How she didn't freeze to death he didn't know. She didn't have enough food. She needed new clothes. Her shoes were worn from all the walking she did. She looked tired. It was obvious she needed a long rest, away from her job and the worry of her life. He was determined to give it all to her, somehow.

….

"Why didn't you ever leave New York?" Cal asked.

"I don't know," Rose answered. "I kept planning to. I saved money, decided where I would go, but I just never did." She shrugged. "When it came time to leave, I couldn't. It was like I was frozen. I'd think no, not yet; it isn't the right time."

"What about now?"

"What do you mean?" she said. "You think I should still leave?"

"Not immediately, but do you still want to?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "I feel like I've been wasting my life here."

"You wouldn't have left if you'd married Michael," he pointed out.

"We might have," she said. "We talked about it." But she knew he was right. Wasn't that part of Michael's appeal? With him everything had been so simple' their life was already laid out, and once that had been suffocating, but by the time he asked her to marry him, it had sounded nice. Safe. Comforting. Adventures were too dangerous alone. She didn't know how Jack had done it. She didn't know Jack had watched her all that time, fervently wishing he could give her back her strength. When had she lost it? It happened slowly, the fire dimming a little each time she found herself alone and realized no-one cared what happened to her. If she died there would be no grief. All the plans she made during those first months turned to ash, and nothing she did changed them back.

Rose's eyes were heavy, and Cal wished he hadn't brought it up. He put his hand on her cheek. "I'm sorry,' he said.

"You haven't done anything," she said.

"I've done so many things to be sorry for." He stroked her cheek with his fingertips. It was the place where he'd hit her; he always touched that spot, as if by loving her now he could erase that moment. Rose put her hand over his and leaned into his palm. Everything was different now, with him.

"You make me happy," she said. "It's hard, though, because I didn't let myself admit I wasn't before."

He kissed her jaw. "I love you," he said.

Rose smiled. "Say it again."

He gently turned her head so their eyes met. "Rose, I love you."

"I love you." It felt so good to say it. She couldn't remember ever telling Michael she loved him; the most she'd ever said was how fond of him she was. That paltry feeling didn't compare to this. Cal was frustrating. He said things she wanted left quiet, but didn't she do that to him as well? He was sheltered and oblivious in so many ways but brilliant in others. He made her laugh. He made her feel alive. He had such reserves of hidden warmth. He made her feel safe. When he took her in his arms she felt the way she imagined a ball of wool might, once it's been wound up. Neat and at peace.

"It's late," Cal said. "Do you want me to go?"

"Do you want to stay?"

He nodded. "I want to stay."

"Would you like some tea? When it's cold, I drink a cup before I go to bed."

"Alright," he said.

Cal watched Rose make tea. He looked around her kitchen, impressed by how clean and pretty it was. On a shelf were three tea pots, one purple, one white, and one blue with small flowers painted on it. "I collect tea pots," she said, taking down the white one. "If you can call three a collection."

"They're nice." She was the only woman he'd ever known who preferred tea pots and books to diamonds and silk dresses. It was baffling. But that was why he loved her, wasn't it?

…

Rose's bed was barely big enough for the both of them. She wore soft flannel pajamas. He had nothing to wear, but she didn't seem to mind if he slept in his shorts. Nothing of hers was big enough, even though her pajamas were made for men. As his clothes came off she looked at him. His heart beat faster. Women looking at him wasn't new. Being desired wasn't new either. He was well aware of his power to attract women. But this was different. Cal cared what Rose thought. This wasn't an empty affair; being wanted briefly wasn't enough. And the half-smile she wore made it even clearer that nothing he usually did would impress her. He remembered her words the night they danced. Maybe she was right. Maybe he did make love the way he danced. When you buy women the way he had, who would complain? Cassandra hadn't, though. And he'd loved her too. Not as much as Rose. He would give it all up for Rose. Everything, his money, his life. He was certain. When he held her, he knew he would do anything to keep holding her.

Rose settled against him, her head pressed into his chest. Her arm was curved over him. His arms were around her, one under, one over. So what if one arm went to sleep? She breathed him in and sighed happily. "Comfortable?" he asked.

"Yes. Are you?"

"Perfectly," he said.

"Tell me more. Tell me about after Cassandra."

No-one else ever wanted to know these things about him. Until she began asking, Cal hadn't realized how badly he wanted to tell someone. "Alright," he said. "After it ended I went back home…" He talked until he was sure she was asleep. He closed his eyes and kissed her forehead, waiting for sleep to come. But it didn't. Instead doubts came.

 _You'll hurt her again. You'll hold her too tightly, and she'll hate you for it. Again. She'll run away. Again. You'll fail her, just like you did before. Just like you failed Cassandra. Who are you kidding? You can't give up anything. You need power too much. You can't live without having your own way._

Cal couldn't banish them. They crowded his mind, and he remembered the intoxication of rage. It wasn't something he felt often anymore. Most people didn't oppose him. It was addicting, the rush of power, the blinding clarity. When he was caught in rage nothing of himself was left. He felt invincible. He'd teetered on the edge of that abyss the whole time he was engaged to Rose. Was loving her, was trying to change, wanting to protect and save her, the way he was supposed to back then, enough to keep him away from that edge? "It will be," he promised, both her and himself.

But he was still afraid, and in the darkness, Jack sensed it and watched them.


	8. Chapter 8

Waking up with Rose next to him was different this time. Cal didn't worry about being too close. He didn't hesitate before kissing her cheek and nuzzling her neck. "You're prickly," she said sleepily.

"I'm sorry. I forgot."

Rose turned to face him. "I like seeing you this way."

"What way?" he asked.

"Just woken up. Your hair mussed. Unshaven. I wouldn't have seen you like this if I'd married you before," she mused.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't have," he said.

"Then it's a good thing I didn't marry you."

"Yes," he agreed.

Cal wondered if that meant she would never marry him. It was too soon to ask, too soon to even hint at such a thing. He moved his fingertips across her face. Their eyes met, and the air grew heavier. Suddenly Rose was very aware of how close he was. She felt him breathe. His chest rippled with muscles. Laying her head on his chest felt so good. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and pull him even closer.

Instead she said, "I'll make breakfast."

"I'll help," he offered.

"You don't have to."

"I want to," he said.

It was cold outside of the bed. Cal shivered as he pulled on his clothes. "Is it possible to get more heat in here?" he asked.

"You can turn the radiator up. That should help."

It was still too cold, even after he turned it up all the way. Cal marveled at how unaffected Rose was by it. "What can I do?" he asked.

"I don't have much," she said apologetically. "But you knew that already. Why don't you fill the kettle while I make the toast?"

"Sure," he said.

When breakfast was over he said, "I need to get my things. If I'm staying here. If you still want me to stay here."

"I want you to stay here," Rose said.

"So, I should go take care of that. Unless you want to come with me?"

"No, I'll get my shopping done while you're doing that," she replied. "It's better to go in the morning."

"I could help with that. If I'm going to be staying here I _should_ help with that," he said.

"You don't have to. I can manage just fine."

"Rose, it isn't a problem. I—"

"I know you have the money," Rose said. "Of course I know you have it, but I don't want to take your money. I have my own. It may not be as much—it isn't even close—but it's mine. I worked for it. We aren't married, and even if we were…." She shook her head.

"Even if we were?" he prompted.

"I still wouldn't take it," she said.

"That would be difficult, wouldn't it?" he said. "It hardly sounds fair."

"It isn't fair either way. You have the power if I take money from you, though, and I can control that at least."

"I don't want power," Cal said. "I did. I admit that. But things are different now. You know they're different. I love you."

"I love you," Rose said. "And I want things to stay like this. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

….

Cal briefly considered checking out of his hotel but decided against it. Having a place to receive messages would be useful. He couldn't tell people to call Rose's apartment, not that he was ashamed to be there. But it would cost too much, and he knew she wasn't likely to let him pay, even if all the calls were for him. He also just didn't want anyone knowing about Rose yet. He didn't want to deal with the questions, the judgment, the gossping. He didn't want her to be hounded by society columnists and his family. God only knew what they would have to say about it. He wasn't afraid things would break between them anymore, but he saw no need to put stress on it until they were both ready.

Cal got out of the car and walked the last few blocks, carrying two of his own suitcases. It was the first time he'd done such a thing since he ran away to New York, all those years ago. He found himself nodding to people he wouldn't have even looked at before. Once or twice he even smiled. What was happening to him? Was he, Caledon Hockley, really walking and carrying his own luggage? And was he enjoying it?

Rose was still out when he got back to the apartment. Fortunately, she had given him her spare key. He shivered. It was colder inside than out. The heat was off; the radiator felt like an icicle. He turned it up as high as it would go, resolving to pay the extra expense one way or another. They couldn't very well freeze to death. Even Rose could see that. She shouldn't be coming home to a frigid apartment anyway. It was a miracle she wasn't ill. Slowly, the room began to warm, but Cal stayed chilled. He kept his coat on and stood next to the radiator, but it didn't help.

He felt eyes on his back. Once, he whirled around, sure someone was there, but no-one was. At least, no-one he could see. Jack glowered at Cal, cold radiating from him. It was petty and accomplished nothing, but he didn't care. He couldn't drive Cal away. He couldn't have Rose. He couldn't have _anything_ , except for the little pleasure he got from this.

…..

Rose barely had the door open when Cal met her. "Let me take that," he said, reaching for her shopping bags.

"I can handle it," she said, but she let him have them anyway.

"How?" Cal said. "This one must weigh fifteen pounds at least."

"Surely it isn't that heavy," she said. "I only got a few books today."

"You needed _more_ books?"

"Of course. One can never have too many books," she said. "Oh, I forgot. You don't read," she added, shaking her head sadly. "Well, imagine they're something you like. Silk shirts, perhaps."

"You say that as if I went around demanding all libraries be burned to the ground," Cal said. "And what's funny about wanting plenty of shirts?"

"Did I say it was funny?"

"You didn't have to." He smiled, and she smiled back. For a moment they just looked at one another. Cal had never known another woman who would banter with him this way. Not even Cassandra had done it, but theirs had been a different sort of relationship entirely. Rose was his friend. Yes, that was it. He found the thought comforting, rather than disconcerting as he would have expected. Rose might just be the best friend he could ask for. Was it possible to actually care this much for a woman? To be this interested in a woman? Only with her, he thought. She was his match in every way.

"I made tea," Cal said. "I thought you might be cold. I turned up the heat also. It was freezing in here when I got back. I didn't want you coming home to that. It's not healthy." He looked closed at her coat as she took it off. It was much too thin. She needed a new one, but would she accept it?

"Thank you," Rose said. "That was very thoughtful of you. If you don't mind, I'll turn it back down, though. It's more than warm enough in here now."

"I don't mind." Cal shivered as he said it, but she had already turned away.

"I don't get very cold most of the time," she said. "Maybe that time in the freezing ocean had one positive outcome. I'd like to think so." Jack stood against her, radiating warmth. No, she was never too cold anymore, if he could help it. "Do I talk about that too much?" she asked.

Cal shook his head. "No. You should talk about it."

"Do you really think so?"

"I don't want to pretend the past—our past—didn't happen," he said. "We can't start out that way, not if we want this to last. You do want it to last?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "You wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"I had to ask," he said. "It seems too good to be true." He laughed sheepishly. "Is that the worse thing I could say?"

"No. I can think of worse things you have said."

He moved closer and put his hand on her waist. "I'll never say them again," he said. "I'll never make you feel that way again, Rose."

"I know. I trust you," she said. "It may not make sense, but I've learned to follow my instincts, especially when they take me places that don't make sense."

He kissed her softly. "How about that tea?"

….

"You're just going to read then?" Cal said.

Rose nodded. "I planned to."

He stood for a moment before sitting down next to her. "I'll just sit here," he said. "And relax."

"You could read too. I have plenty of books."

"Sitting here is fine," he said.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than he began finding ways to interrupt her. He watched her, staring at her face, the way her eyes focused on the words. He glanced at her hands every time she turned the page. "You read quickly," he said.

"Do I? This is my natural pace," she said absently. After a few minutes she couldn't ignore his staring any longer. "Why are you doing that?" she asked.

"What? I wasn't doing anything."

"You're staring at me," she said.

"I was just watching you," he replied.

"Please don't. It's distracting."

"I'll stop," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," she said.

But it wasn't long before his eyes found her again. "Cal," she said.

"Yes?"

"You're doing it again."

"Was I?" he said. "I didn't realize."

"Please, read something. You won't be so fascinated by me if you do," Rose said. "There are dozens of books here. I must have at least one that can hold your attention."

"I'll give it a try," he said.

Cal was a few pages into a book when the sighing began. It was quiet at first but quickly grew louder. "Cal?" she said again.

"Yes?" he said hopefully.

"You're being loud now."

"Oh. I'm sorry," he said.

"It's alright," she said.

He turned pages quickly, smacking his hand against the book. "You don't enjoy reading, do you?" Rose said.

"I like reading, sometimes," Cal replied.

"Anything besides your bank statements and the stock reports?"

"I have those read to me," he said. "I like hearing how well I'm doing from someone else."

Rose stared at him. "Did you just make a joke?"

His mouth turned up in a half-smile. "Indeed I did."

"I don't think I've ever heard you do that," she said.

"I make jokes," he said.

"You never make them with me."

"Consider that the first of many then. You really want to read, don't you?" he said.

"Yes," she answered. "But unfortunately, _you're_ bored."

"I'm not bored," he insisted.

"Oh really? Is that why you can't stop bothering me?"

"Maybe I'm a little bored," he conceded. "I don't care much for these avant garde novelists."

Rose arched an eyebrow. "Avant garde?"

"You know what I mean. These experimental books. I like books with a proper beginning, middle, and end. I like a clean plot."

"You sound positively Victorian," Rose said.

"Well, I _was_ born in 1882," Cal replied. "I guess that would make me a Victorian, even if that is an absurd, English concept."

She laughed. "I forgot how much you hate the English."

"And you love them." But he smiled as he said it.

"I don't love them. I don't hate Britain, if that's what you mean," Rose said. "I'd like to go back there someday."

"Would you really?"

"Yes, someday, if I ever have the money."

"We could—" he began.

"No." She shook her head. "We couldn't."

"Rose—"

"Cal."

They faced one another. "You are the most exasperating woman I have ever known," he said. "No matter what I offer you, you won't take it."

"I don't want anything. I don't need anything. Except for you," she said. "I want _you._ That's all."

Cal put his hand over hers. The air was getting thicker. Slowly, they moved closer. "Just me?" he said.

Their lips brushed. "Just you," she said.

"I come with things," he said. His voice was low. "I'm trying to share them with you." He put an arm around her.

"I don't want any of that." Her hands were on his shirt. As he kissed her, she undid the buttons. "I want _you_ ," she said.

"Do you really?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?" he asked.

Rose nodded. "I'm sure. You can't tell me you haven't thought about it."

"I've thought about it." He laughed softly.

"It's funny," Rose said.

"What is?"

"Us. Of all the people….I never would have guessed I'd be here with you," she said.

Cal kissed her slowly, his hand on her face. She tugged his shirt, trying to get it off. He shrugged out of it with a laugh. "It's quite a change from the days when I could barely get near you," he said.

"I hated you," she said airily.

"I know. That made me want you more."

"So, you're a masochist?" she said.

"You approach everything with the same passion," he said. "Hatred would have been just as good as love."

"No, it wouldn't have," Rose replied. "Not from me."

Cal studied her face for a moment. "No, I guess it wouldn't have. You're…different."

"From whom?" she asked.

"All of them."

"There've been that many?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Should I feel competitive?" she asked.

Cal pulled her against him. As he kissed her throat, he said, "No."

Neither of them were sure how they made it to the bed. Their kisses grew longer. Little by little their clothes began coming off. They touched with eager but hesitant hands. Rose nipped at his neck gently, earning a low groan in response. His hands moved more confidently now, searching for the ways she wanted to be touched. Until then Rose hadn't realized how badly she wanted someone to make love to her, how much she missed being held and kissed and feeling connected to another person. She had forgotten how good it felt to give pleasure to someone she loved.

Rose felt him pressed against her. A shiver went down her back. His hair was falling around his face. That never happened. She liked how undone he was. She lifted his head so their eyes met. "You should feel competitive," she said.

"I do."

Part of him feared that no matter what he did he would never measure up to the memory of Jack. He would never make her as happy. He would never make her feel as safe or inspire such devotion. He would never make love to her as well. The energy between them had been almost palpable, right from the start. When they touched he almost expected to see sparks.

But Cal tried to forget all of that, if only for the moment. He lost himself in her. There was a moment, just before the end, when he looked down into her eyes. Time seemed to stand still. There was nothing between them; they were as close as they could be. He loved her. She loved him back. It was the most perfect moment. Neither of them heard every glass in the kitchen shatter.

…

Cal held her with both arms. Her head lay on his chest. Her leg was between his. The radiator seemed to actually work now; the room was almost too warm. It didn't bother Rose, but he kicked away the blanket in his sleep. As soon as he did so, the air around him turned bitterly cold. He held her tighter, shivering. His eyes fluttered open. His movements woke Rose. "Where're you going?" she asked sleepily.

"Nowhere. I just need the blanket."

Rose was fully awake now. He looked pale, his olive skin now a stark white. "You're cold," she said, touching him. "You're shivering."

Cal saw fear in her eyes. "I just lost the blanket," he said. "I'm fine, liebling." _Darling._ He slipped into German without thinking. It fit; it was the language he liked best. He pulled it up to his shoulder. "Come here," he said, gently bringing her back down with him. His arms encircled her.

"You're still cold," she said. Rose draped herself across him, offering her warmth. His skin felt like ice. But the room was warm, and so was she. Something was wrong; it had to be. Her heart pounded. No. No. She couldn't lose him. This couldn't happen again. She buried her face in his neck. The ends of his hair brushed her cheek.

"I'll get warm," he said reassuringly. "Don't worry."

Images flashed before her eyes. It was so dark and so unbearably cold. Jack was blue by the end; their hands were frozen together. She had been tempted to stay, despite her promise. Hadn't their bound hands been a sign that she wasn't supposed to go? A sob escaped her throat.

Cal lifted her up into his lap. He pulled the blanket around them and tilted her head up. "Why are you crying?" he asked, brushing away tears. "Did I do something?"

Rose shook her head. "No, you didn't do anything."

"What's wrong, meine leibling?" _My darling_

He felt warm now. Rose couldn't believe the difference. She ran her hand across his chest. "You aren't freezing anymore," she said. She kissed him, desperately, as if making sure he was still there.

After a minute he pulled away. "Don't think I don't like that," he said. "But you still haven't told me what's wrong."

"You were so cold. It didn't feel right," Rose said, struggling to explain. "It felt like you were…"

"Oh," he said softly.

"It just…it scared me," she said. "It scared me so much. I don't want to lose you, that's all I could think about."

"You won't lose me, Rose," he said. Cal silently cursed Jack. The least he could have done was not leave her sad and alone. He kissed her tenderly, "I'll never leave you," he said. "Ich liebe Dich. Ich werde dich nie verlassen," he whispered between kisses. "Meine liebling, meine Prinzessin, meine Blume." _I love you. I'll never leave you. My darling, my princess, my flower._

Jack watched from the ceiling, cursing himself for making her cry.

 **AN: Thanks for all the comments everyone, on this and my other stories! I really appreciate them.**


	9. Chapter 9

"I can't figure out what happened," Rose said, as she swept up the glass. Her favorite teacups were still intact, but the rest of the glasses were in pieces all over the floor. It was almost as if whatever caused the destruction knew what it was doing.

"Maybe it was too cold in here," Cal said.

"Maybe. But nothing like this has ever happened before." She frowned. "I guess we'll be drinking out of teacups until I can buy new glasses."

"I—" he began.

"No," she said.

Now it was his turn to frown. "Must you be so stubborn? This is something you need."

"No, I don't. I have teacups. Stop trying to buy things for me."

"Let me help you clean this up, at least," he said.

"You can do that."

" _Ä_ _rgerlich_ , " he said.

"What?"

"I love you," Cal said.

"No, that isn't what you said. Love is—" Rose tried to remember the word. _"Liebling_."

" _Liebling_ ," he said slowly, correcting her pronunciation. "That's darling." He kissed her hands. " _Liebe_ is love."

"They sound similar."

"Shouldn't they?"

"What were the others?" she asked.

"What others?"

"The other things you said. Bloom?"

" _Blume_ ," he said. "Flower."

"Flower," she repeated. " _Blume."_

"Am I teaching you _Deutsch_ , one word at a time?" he joked.

"Why not?" Rose smiled and shrugged. "I taught you how to dust and make tea."

"Useful skills indeed."

"Cal, I'm sorry about what happened last night," she said. Her expression dimmed. "I don't know what came over me. I woke up, and—"

"You don't have to explain," he said. "You explained enough last night. I understand why you were afraid."

"Does it ever bother you?" Rose asked.

Cal knew what she meant. "It did at first. I was anxious a lot. I dreamed about it, but that went away eventually. I didn't lose anyone the way you did, and I was safe."

"You made it into a boat."

"Not the way I intended to, but yes," he said.

"What did you do?" she asked.

"You'll think less of me if I tell you."

"I won't. I promise. You didn't reload that gun, did you?" she said.

"No. I found a little girl and used her to get on a boat. She was alone," Cal explained. "I stayed with her until the ship picked us up."

"What happened to her?"

"She's in a good school in Switzerland," he said. "I never found her parents."

"So, you kept her?" Rose said, impressed.

"I wouldn't call sending her to a Swiss boarding school keeping her."

"You're responsible for her," she pointed out.

"I suppose I am. It seemed like the right thing to do. It seemed like what you would want me to do," Cal added. "I don't know why that mattered."

"I would have insisted we keep her with us," Rose said. She put a hand on his face and looked into his eyes. "What are those other things you said?"

"Prinzessin. Princess."

"I'm not," she said.

"You are to me."

…..

Rose tried to get up, but Cal held fast to her. "No," he said, curling a leg around her.

"I have to go to work," she said, trying to untangle herself. "And so do you."

"What can they do if I don't come in? Fire me?"

"The whole company might fall apart," she said.

"I don't care. I'll start a new one. I have the money."

"You do care," Rose said. "And I _don't_ have the money, so unhand me, please." Grudgingly, he loosened his grip. She kissed his forehead. "Thank you, dear."

Cal watched her go. How could one person be that beautiful? Her curls fell down her back, even redder against her skin. He sighed, not wanting to leave the warm bed. The sheets smelled like them. He wondered if he smelled like her. If he didn't take his bath, would her scent stay on him, like a cologne? He almost wanted it to. He wanted to carry her with him.

"Aren't you up yet?" Rose said. She stood over him, fully dressed. Her hair was pinned up now. Cal wanted to pull her back into bed, but he didn't.

"I'm getting up," he said.

As they finished breakfast. Cal glanced out the window. The sky was dark grey. "Are you sure you want to walk?" he said.

"It isn't far," Rose replied. "I like it."

"It's going to rain, and it's cold."

"I have an umbrella. I'll be fine," she said.

"Rose—"

"Cal. No." She shook her head for emphasis.

"I won't give up," he said. "I can be as stubborn as you."

Jack perched on the light fixture, waiting to see how things went. He didn't want to admit it, but he agreed with Cal. Rose needed help. She needed things he couldn't give her, not when he was alive, and certainly not now. He wished he hadn't broken the glasses. It wasn't intentional. Seeing them together was just too much at the time. The look on Rose's face—he'd seen it before. He made it happen, once, but not now.

…

Rose turned the corner, and there he was. Michael. She nearly dropped the stack of books she was carrying. She ducked back around the corner, heart pounding, hoping he hadn't seen her. She waited before going back to her desk.

A large box greeted her. "That came for you," Gloria, one of the other librarians, said.

"Did they say who it's from?" It was a plain, black box.

"No," Gloria answered. "There wasn't a message. Aren't you going to open it?"

Rose took the lid off slowly. Beneath layers of tissue paper she found a coat. It was soft wool, dark green, with silver buttons. It was lined with black silk.

"That's nice," Gloria said admiringly. "Someone paid a lot for it. You don't know who it's from?"

"Oh, I know who it's from," Rose said. She couldn't help smiling as she touched the buttons. It would certainly be warm _and_ pretty.

"There's a card," Gloria said.

Rose laughed as she read it. _You can't send this back. You don't know where it's from. So, let's compromise a little. Wear it, alright, liebling? You stay warm on your walks, and I worry less about you._

"Is it from Michael?" Gloria asked, lowering her voice. "I thought you two were over."

"We are."

"There's someone else? Already? Tell me about him," Gloria said eagerly. "Is he the reason you broke off the engagement?"

"I broke the engagement because it wasn't right," Rose said. "I didn't love Michael, not in that way." She moved her finger tips around the buttons, tracing the circle. "I don't want to talk about him too much yet," she said. "I'm not sure what's happening."

"If that coat's anything to go by, he's serious," Gloria said. "And he has money. You don't let a man like that go."

Rose smiled sardonically. "I do."

…..

"I'm not saying it isn't nice," Rose said. "It's lovely, but—"

"But what?" Cal said. "You _needed_ it."

"Maybe I did, but it's too extravagant. I could have found something much cheaper and just as good."

"Cheap and good do not go together," he said. "And _blume_ , you have seen the extravagance I'm capable of. This was a simple gift, and it's not even that."

"It isn't a gift? I owe you something for it then?" she said. "Well, at least we're on familiar ground again."

"You don't owe me anything. I didn't give you a coat because I want something. I gave it to you because you needed it, and it was in my power to give it."

"I know. You've already gotten everything you ever wanted from me," she said.

"I have not," Cal said.

Her eyes danced with laughter, but her tone was serious. "You wanted more than my body?"

"Yes."

Rose looked surprised. "Did you really? Back then?"

"Yes," he said again. "Your beauty got my attention first. I won't say I wasn't trying to get you into bed—" She laughed. "But I wanted more. I told you that."

"When?" she said. "All I remember is being scolded and pursued. It would have been very confusing had I been less intelligent. You were the confused one, I thought."

"Why would you say that?"

"It always felt like you didn't know what you wanted me to be," Rose explained. "One minute you talked at me like I was a child, and the next you were _almost_ talking to me like we were the same. I never knew what to expect. I never trusted you. How could I?"

"Rose, I didn't know what to do. You baffled me."

"So you've said."

"You did," Cal replied. "You didn't respond like any of the women I'd known before. Nothing I did ever seemed to make you happy, so I kept finding bigger, more impressive things to present you with. And the only time you smiled was when we got those paintings."

"They were the only things I got to choose," she said. "And you made fun of them."

"They were silly to me. I didn't understand how you could like them so much."

"And you must belittle anything you don't understand," Rose said.

"I wish I hadn't," Cal said. "I wasn't talking about _you_ when I said those things. I just wanted…."

"What? For me to take you seriously? Look up to you?"

"I believe we've been over this," he said.

"Yes. Let's not talk about the past anymore," she said. "It's over."

"The future then?" he suggested.

" _Our_ future?" she said. "I don't know if I can think about that yet."

"I've thought about it," Cal said. "I've been thinking a lot about it."

"You planned the rest of your lives, did you?"

"Just the next ten years," he said jokingly.

"I mean it. I don't know if I can think about that yet," she said. "Everything's changed, so much, so fast. I'm happy. I love you. I want you here. That's enough for now, don't you think? We're still figuring this out."

"It's enough," he agreed. "For now. But Rose, do you think you'll ever—"

"Don't say it. Cal, please, don't bring that up. I don't even—I can't imagine how that would work," she said.

"I won't bring it up yet," he said. "We'll have to deal with it sooner or later, though. The future can't be denied."

"You always think about what's coming next," she said. "You're always trying to plan everything. What about the present?"

"I'm enjoying the present very much," Cal said. "That won't stop me from asking."

Rose kissed his neck. "Don't send any more wildly expensive things to me, alright? Let's have dinner."

"I promised no jewelry, that's all."

" _Nothing_ ," she said. "And thank you, dear. I did need a new coat. At least you overspent on something useful this time."

 _I could give you everything_ , he thought. _If you'd only let me._ As much as her position frustrated him, he understood it. She wanted independence. He respected that. He'd wanted the same thing. Controlling people, buying affection and loyalty, was something his family had done all his life. He watched his father use money to dominate the rest of the family. His mother used it to win friends and gain the upper hand in society—the only place she ever had any power, really. They both used it against him, until he finally got too old, though they still tried, occasionally. His father loved threatening to disinherit him. It probably wouldn't happen, but Cal couldn't be sure. The thought of the businesses going to his cousins made him sick. They would run everything into the ground before the first year was up. The family's name, their legacy, would be ruined. It would be years before it could be restored, if it ever was.

That was how they'd gotten rid of Cassandra. He failed. He did everything they told him to. But they also made sure she lost interest. He didn't know how much, but he knew money changed hands at some point during that mess.

They couldn't drive Rose away. She didn't care about money. If he lost everything, getting her to marry him might actually be easier. The truth was, and he was somewhat ashamed to admit it, Cal didn't want to be poor now any more than he'd wanted to be back then. Wealth didn't have to be a trap, and he was determined to show Rose that.

…..

As far as cheap apartments went, Rose's wasn't that bad, and she knew it. Cal, on the other hand, was appalled by it. "It's drafty," he said.

"Lots of place as drafty."

"It needs to be painted," he said.

"That's purely cosmetic," she replied. "We can live with faded walls."

"You need better locks."

"I've never felt unsafe," Rose said.

"I wonder if you ever feel unsafe. You and your rambles across the city at all hours of the night." Cal shook his head.

Rose hadn't ever felt unsafe, not since she arrived in New York. No matter where she went or when, a feeling of security always accompanied her. It was as though someone were there, making sure everything was alright. She didn't think about it often anymore. It was just there. She never would have guessed it was Jack making her feel so at ease.

"You need more space," Cal said.

"For what?" Rose asked.

"For—for _us_ ," he said. "For your books and a chair and for my things."

"I like this apartment," she said. "It's probably the best I can afford. It is a little small, with both of us here," she conceded. In the three weeks Cal had been staying there it seemed to have shrunk. His clothes were mixed with hers. His work papers covered the kitchen table. They fought for space in the tiny bathroom, around the sink, on the shelf.

"Rose, maybe we should talk about… _that,_ " he said. "If we continue on like this, we'll get there eventually anyway."

"Will we?"

"Won't we?" he said, surprised by her response. "Did you think we wouldn't? I already tried to bring it up, remember?"

"You don't have any reason to marry me," Rose said. "Just because we're living together now…that isn't a reason."

Yes, it is. They didn't hear Jack say it.

"It isn't? Wanting to be with you isn't a reason? Wanting to live with you, forever, not just a few weeks at a time, isn't a reason to marry you?" Cal looked at her closely. "I want a whole life with you, everything we have now and more. I want us to have a home together—one we both fit into. I thought you wanted that too."

Jack wished he didn't agree with Cal. He wished he didn't want Rose to agree with him. But he made her so happy.

"When I think about marrying you, it terrifies me," she said. "Everything would change."

"No, it wouldn't."

"Yes, it would. Everyone would know. They would talk. I'd be your _wife_. I wouldn't be me anymore. I wouldn't have my job or my own money. I'd be expected to do all of those inane things I have absolutely no interest in doing," she said. "And you can say you wouldn't care whether I was the perfect society wife or not, but you would. Sooner or later, it would bother you, and things would be the way they were last time. We would hate each other. I'd run away. Cal, dear, love, I don't want to hate you again. What we have now is wonderful. I—" She dropped her head into her hands. She didn't resist when he pulled her into his lap.

"That will not happen," Cal said. "I know what I'm like. I've thought about that. Do you think I don't worry I'll fall back into that pattern? This isn't like anything else I've ever done," he said. "It's terrifying me too, but I want it. I want you. I want children with you."

"That's even scarier," Rose said.

"Why?"

"I couldn't raise a child in that world. The way I grew up—the way we both grew up, I couldn't do that to my own child," she said.

"We don't have to do things that way. _Liebling_ , we can do whatever we want."

"You said that before. It wasn't a comfort."

"I mean it differently this time. We can make our life however we want, wherever we want," he said. " _Prinzessin_ , think about it. Think how happy we could be."

Rose shook her head. "It's too much. It's too fast." She lay her head against his neck. "You're not the man I thought I'd love," she said. "You're not the one I _ever_ thought I'd want to spend my life with."

"But you do want that?"

"Dear, of course I do," she said. "I can't change _everything_ yet, though. I need more time. Cal, please, understand. Let me have that. I didn't get any time before. We met, and then, suddenly, I was marrying you. I didn't know how it happened. You were this strange man who was just there all the time."

"I didn't know you felt that way," he said. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm telling you now."

"I meant then. If I'd known-"

"What?" she said. "You wouldn't have pushed me to marry you so fast? Yes, you would have. That's just who you were then."

"I won't do that now," he promised.

"Thank you." Rose kissed him.

"When I ask, you'll say yes?"

"When it's right, I will," she said.

...

Cal decided to focus on what he could do to improve their situation. Rose wasn't going to move unless it was to a place she could pay for, which meant a bigger apartment in a better neighborhoos wasn't an option. So, he would have to make the only she had better. Two days later he owned the building and three others on the block. Rose wanted her own money. Fine. He didn't have a problem with that. He put all the deeds in her name. The rents would go into an account for her, and he pay for the renovations.

She would think it was too extravagent, but he was sure she'd see why it was a good idea. It was a compromise. It didn't come naturally to him, but he was trying. For her, he'd try anything.


	10. Chapter 10

Repair work on the building began the following week. One evening Rose came home to find men on the steps and in the hallway, along with piles of tools and supplies. They nodded at her but said nothing. She watched, bemused, wondering where they had come from. She was in no hurry to go upstairs. Cal had gone back to Pittsburgh for a week, and the once cramped apartment was cavernous now. Rose had always enjoyed the silence that came with living alone, but now it was too loud. She wanted to hear another voice.

A package waited outside her door. She picked up the box. It was bulky and heavy; there was no card, nothing to indicate what was inside or where it came from. It was from Cal; she knew that instinctively.

Jack watched her open it, curious about its contents as well. Rose smiled and shook her head. "A radio?" she said. "Really? Why?" As before, the card was inside.

 _Meine liebling, I miss you already, and I haven't even left yet, When you get this I won't be there, so I won't get to see your face when you open it or hear you tell me it's too expensive and unnecessary. I offer another compromise. I don't want to leave you alone, so I'm sending you this to keep you company. At least there will be other voices around until I get back. Ich liebe dich, meine blume._

Rose read the card twice, letting his voice fill her ears. His handwriting was so precise, so steady. It was nothing like hers. Jack came down and sat next to her. Well, turn it on, he said, silently, as always. As if on cue, the telephone rang. Jack followed her over to it. "Hello?" she said.

"Did it arrive?"

Her eyes lit up at the sound of Cal's voice. "It arrived," she said. "If we're referring to the radio that must have cost a small fortune, and which, I might add, you shouldn't have sent me."

"It wasn't that expensive," Cal said.

"I'm sure it wasn't."

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"I love it. You shouldn't have gotten it, but thank you. It will certainly make the evenings less lonely."

You could come with me, he wanted to say. He knew she wouldn't. "That's why I got it," he said instead. "I'll be back Saturday."

"Really? You said it would be next week."

"Do you want me to stay longer?" he asked. "I can. No-one here is capable of getting anything done when I'm gone."

"No, I want you to come back," Rose said. "I miss you."

"I miss you too, Rose. I haven't had a decent argument since I left," Cal said. "Everyone keeps agreeing with me."

"But you like when everyone agrees with you."

"It's becoming tiresome," he said.

"First you offer compromises, and now everyone going out of their way to accommodate you is tiresome," Rose said. "If I weren't watching this happen, I wouldn't believe it."

"I have trouble believing it myself at times," he said. She heard other people in the background. "I have to go, I'm sorry."

"It's alright. You'll be here soon. I love you," she said.

"I love you, Rose."

"Say it the other way?" she asked.

Cal smiled, not caring that he had an audience. "Ich liebe dich, meine prinzessin. Ich vermisse dich."

"I'm not a princess."

"You are to me," he said. And to me, Jack added silently.

….

Rose kept the radio on with the volume low for the rest of the evening, It began to rain, but the little apartment was snug and warm. Jack stayed close to her, making sure she stayed warm when the radiator sputtered and the heat failed. She hummed along to the music as she knitted, moving the needles to the beat. The yarn was a thick, soft wool; the stitch was a complicated one, but she knitted quickly, and soon, a scaf began to emerge. Jack watched as the scarlet yarn came together in a pattern. It wasn't for her. The color was wrong; it would clash with her hair.

It was for Cal, Jack realized, with a sinking heart. He should have known. Why wouldn't it be? His jealousy flared again. It wasn't fair. There was such love in every stitch. What would it be like to wear that scarf? To wrap all that love around himself, even when she wasn't there? He would never know. Rose would never knit anything for him.

But she looked so happy now. Jack moved closer to her. She should be happy; she deserved to be. Together, the two of them would love her. They would make sure she was alright.

…..

Rose was there when he got off the train. Cal wanted to run to her, but he didn't let himself. The station was crowded; people would stare. He'd already dealt with enough from his family. All he wanted was to go back to his life with Rose without any further hassle. But Rose didn't care about the crowd. She hurried toward him. Beaming, she threw her arms around him. Cal pulled her to him. He knew he'd missed her, but he hadn't realized just how much until he was holding her again. "Liebling," he said into her hair.

"Don't go away again," she said.

"I won't." It was easy to say now, but he would have to go back again, and he knew it. If only she would go with him. If only she would-No, he wouldn't spoil things by thinking like that. She smiled up at him, and he kissed her, no longer caring who saw.

….

"I'm afraid you won't get much sleep," Rose said. "The renovation crew arrives at dawn and stays all day. The building is starting to look a little better, so that's some consolation." Cal looked around the room while she went to make tea. Everything was the same. This shabby apartment felt more like home than his own house. "I don't know why they're here," Rose added, coming back from the kitchen. "I heard something about a new owner, but that's just a rumor. I doubt it's true."

"You do?" Cal couldn't help smiling slightly.

Rose studied his eyes. " _You're_ doing it, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you're the one renovating the building-and those others down the street. Why? More importantly, how?" She let out a breath. "You bought them. You're the new owner."

"I'm not," he said.

"You aren't? Why don't I believe that?"

"Because it's true," he said. "You are. I'm just-" He gestured toward the window. "Taking care of this."

"Cal, what are you talking about?" she asked.

"I bought this building and those other three," he explained. "For you. I put them in your name." He saw her stunned expression but kept going. "You want your own money. You say you're fine; you have enough already, but you don't, Rose. You won't take anything from me. This was the only way I could think of to get you a better apartment."

"So, you bought four buildings because you think I need a better place to live?" Rose said, still not quite believing.

"You want to live here. I figured out a way to make this place better," he said. "And you won't have to pay rent anymore. You'll be collecting it now."

Rose's mind spun. She dropped onto the bed. Jack dropped down next to her. "You-You-Why-" She couldn't articulate her thoughts. Because he loves you, Jack said silently. Because he's trying to show you. He's trying to make things better for you. Jack saw Cal's sincerity and Rose's fears. He put his arms around her. He won't hurt you, Rose, he said. Keep trusting him.

But Jack didn't fully mean it. Part of him wanted her to trust Cal. The part that wanted her happy hoped things would work out between them, but the selfish, jealous part wanted her to send Cal away; that part wanted Rose for himself, a self that couldn't even hold her unless she was asleep.

Cal could hold her. Cal was holding her. He pulled her to him, both arms wrapped tightly around her. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's too much. I thought it was a good idea. I was wrong. I-" He faltered. "You don't want that life. I understand, but Rose, having money doesn't have to be bad. It can be fun. It can make things better, easier."

"Until you forget how to live without it," she said. "And then you're just as trapped as you were before."

"I don't _want_ to live without it," he said. "I doubt most people do. I don't need it. _You_ are what I need. Losing you is what I can't live through."

"You never do anything by halves,"Rose said. "I need a new apartment, you get me one. You get me a hundred. Cal, it's overwhelming, and nothing I can do will ever match it." She reached over and took the finished scarf from her knitting bag. "I made you this. It isn't four apartment buildings, but it's what I have to give."

Cal pressed the scarf to his cheek. It felt nice. "It's just as good," he said. "Better, liebling."

"It isn't."

Cal gently tilted her head up. "It is," he said. He kissed her slowly. "Because you made it."

"Do you really mean that?"

"Yes," he said. "No-one has ever made me anything before." He looped it around his neck. "How does it look?"

"It looks nice," Rose said. She kissed his hand. "What you did was incredible. And strange. And too much. It's always too much with you. But it was also sweet. I understand why you did it; just don't do it again. No jewelry, no real estate, Cal. Promise me."

"I promise," he said.

…..

Neither of them had any reason to get up early the next day. Cal still woke up at the same time he always did and had to remind himself there was nothing to get up for. Rose had no such problems. He ran his hand through her curls. It had only been a few days, but sleeping away from her was worse this time. He knew couples who slept in separate rooms. Before Rose, he'd thought that was a smart idea; now, he wondered how they could stand to be so far apart.

Cal kissed her back. Her skin was smooth and warm. She was so pale she looked like she'd be cold when touched, but she wasn't at all. Warmth radiated from her. The more he touched her, the stronger it became, until they were both wrapped in it. She gave all of herself, which at turns terrified and amazed him. Her vulnerability was devastating, and in those moments, when it was safest, so was his.

Cal kissed his way to her eck. His hand moved over her hip. He caressed her belly, gently tickling her. Rose laughed. "Don't," she said, not opening her eyes. His hand kept moving up. "Don't touch you, or don't tickle you?" he asked.

Her eyes opened. "The second one." She rolled onto her back and reached up to touch his hair. It fell around his face, free and inky black. That was how she liked it best. Rose put a hand on his and pulled him down. The morning passed by in a blur of love and sleep.

Rose woke up to the impossible smell of fresh oranges. It was winter in New York; she had to be mistaken. But Cal had found an entire bagful, somehow. "Where did you get these?" she asked.

"There are ways."

"How mysterious," she said dramatically. He cut the sections in half and slowly fed them to her. Each bite tasted like summer. She felt the sun on her back and heard the roar of the ocean in the distance. Cal watched her, stifling a groan when she licked the juice from his hand, "Aren't you going to have any?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I got them for you."

…

The longer Cal lived with Rose the more he learned to do. He never thought about what went into keeping things clean until it was up to him to make sure they stayed clean. The places he'd lived were always cleaned when he wasn't around. He left his bed unmade; he left towels in the bathroom floor, soap nearly gone, and when he came back it was all taken care of.

Cal stripped the bed. Rose changed the sheets once every two weeks in winter, except for days like this when she changed them early. "We spent too much time in bed," she explained. Cal knew what she meant, but he didn't see how too much time could be spent in bed, not if she was there too.

"Here," she said, handing him a stack of clean linen. Her hair was tied back. She wore an old, plain dress. She didn't look anything like the girl he almost married. Cal preferred her this way more and more. "Thank you," he said.

He enjoyed the weekly scrubbing of the apartment more than he cared to admit. It was menial work, the sort of thing he had always considered himself too good for-and Rose as well-but to his surprise, he found it comforting. By the end everything was back in its place. All the surfaces gleamed from the fresh polishing. The rooms smelled of lemon water and what Rose insisted was books, though Cal didn't believe it. When you opened a book you could smell something, but they weren't flowers; they didn't release a scent into the air.

Cal liked things orderly; he wanted them neat and in their places, always. Every day had a routine. He ate his meals in the same way, every time. He was living without servants, as he expected, but he still did things the way he always had. Every night he laid out his clothes, starting from the first layer and working his up. He polished his shoes, taking special care over them. Sometimes, when Rose wasn't looking, he polished hers too. He tried laying out her clothes, but she wouldn't hear of it.

"Getting your clothes out already?" Rose said. Cal nodded, his eyes on the row of shirts. "It's past six," he said. "I may as well get it done."

"We're going back to work in the morning," she sighed.

"You don't have to go."

"Of course I do," she said. "How would I pay for all this?" She spread out her arms.

"You'll have those rents coming in soon," he reminded her. "And with the improvements being made you'll be able to charge more if you want to."

"I wouldn't do that. Higher rent would drive most people out," she replied. "And I can't just live off that money. What would I do all day?" She tilted her head. "What does a wealthy man's mistress spend her time doing? When she's alone, that is."

Cal's shoulders stiffened. "Don't say that."

"Why not?"

"That isn't what this is," he said. "It isn't what you are."

"It isn't? We aren't married, and you spend most of your time living with me," she said. "What else is there to call it? What would you call it if we were talking about another couple, or if I were someone else?"

"But we aren't," Cal said.

"That's not the point. You're trying to hold us to a different standard than the one you use for everyone else. That's not right, Cal."

"Why not? I've always held myself to a different standard," he said, trying to keep his tone light.

"Cal, be serious, please. What I said isn't _so_ bad. You've called me worse, or was that because I was going off to do this very thing with someone else?" She waited for him to respond. Jack waited too. What was Rose trying to do?

Cal looked into her eyes. "I'm sorry I said that."

"I've gotten over it. Clearly."

"You hardly seemed offended at the time," he said.

"I wasn't, not really. I don't think it was true, however," she said. Jack wondered what they were talking about. He knew it involved him. What had Cal said? "He would have married me," she went on. "I might not have let him, but he would have tried."

Of course I would've, Jack said. There wasn't time. We didn't get that far, not with words, but I woulda stayed with you.

"It isn't just me you won't marry?" Cal said. "That's a relief."

"I didn't say I'd never marry you. I said not yet."

"Then why do you insist on calling yourself-on calling this-"

"Because it is," Rose said. She took his hands. "You can't have different standards, dear. You can't say, 'Oh, but I love you, Rose, so it's not the same as it was with those other women."

"I do love you, Rose, and it isn't the same," he said. "I never wanted to marry them."

"Why not?"

"Because they-"

"And how is that different from us?" she asked.

"It just is," he insisted.

"No, love, it isn't," she said. "The way we feel about each other may be different, but no-one else cares about that. I'm trying to make you understand something bigger than ys. It-You can't think less of those women and not me. Do you understand that? It isn't right."

Jack saw what she meant. But it was hard not to separate her from the others. When it was someone you loved, everything was different. He watched Cal sort through what she said. "You're telling me to value all women as much as I value you," he said. "I don't know if I can do that."

"Try, won't you? Please?"

"I need you to respect me as a whole person, and I'm not sure you can do that if you can't do the same for other women," Rose explained. "I can't ever marry you if you don't."

"I'll try."

She kissed his hands. "Thank you."

"Why couldn't I love an easier woman?" he said. "Some simple girl who would let me take care of her?"

"You'd be bored in an hour," Rose said. "You'd give her something pretty and then go looking for someone more challenging."

"It's a good thing I never married. No other woman could possibly be as challenging as you," Cal replied. She rolled her eyes. "I'm going downstairs to get the mail," she said.

If she would just marry me, he thought, none of this would matter. There would be no arguments abou what this is. We would know; _everyone_ would know. She was determined not to, though, at least not yet. He wondered of there was some way to make things move more quickly. Maybe if he-No. Cal shook his head. That was no way to think. Manipulating her was not an option.

It was so easy to fall back into that way of thinking. It scared him. What next? Would he try telling her she had to marry him? Would he refuse to allow her choices? He couldn't that. He'd promised himself he would never do that again. He'd promised Rose he would never do that again. He was beyond that now; he was a better man; he was the man he could have been, all along, if only he'd tried harder, the man she deserved. He hoped.

Cal was chopping vegetables for dinner when Rose came back in. She put her arms around him, pressing her face into his back. She felt his stomach muscles through his shirt.

"What's that for?" he asked, smiling.

"I love you. I know how hard you're trying, all the things you're going along with for me," she said. "And you don't have to."

"Of course I do," he said. "If I want to keep you." He turned so they were facing each other. "And I do, Rose."

"You know the apartment next to this one is empty," Rose said. "We could combine them and have a lot more space. You could have your own closet."

Cal kissed her. "That's a splendid idea, liebling, if it's what you want."

"We need more space," she said. "And that's my compromise."

"I'll get it started tomorrow then."


	11. Chapter 11

"I don't see why we can't stay here," Rose said. "They will be doing most of the work during the day, when we won't be here. It may be a little inconvenient, but so is going to a hotel."

"Only you would see going to a nice hotel for a few days as an inconvenience," Cal said. "If we stay we'll just be in their way. Trust me. They would rather we leave. It will get done much faster if we do."

"What do you mean by a 'nice' hotel?"

"I mean exactly what I said," he replied.

"We differ somewhat in our definition of nice," she said. "We aren't going to be staying in that suite again, are we?"

"Would you mind very much if we did?"

"Yes," Rose answered. "I'd prefer if we didn't. I can't afford that, no matter how many rents are paid this month. I don't want you paying for everything."

"It wouldn't be everything," Cal argued. "It's one thing."

"One extremely expensive thing. Couldn't we find something in the middle?"?

"Yes, I suppose we could," he said. "If it means that much to do."

"It does."

….

They found a room in a nice hotel—nice by Rose's definition. It had a private bathroom, which was the only reason Cal agreed to it. Room service was offered, but she wasn't keen on using it. There wasn't a kitchen, but she argued eating at the coffee shop around the corner would be cheaper. Cal didn't fight her, though he wanted to. _We're compromising,_ he kept reminding himself. The room was clean and airy; he had that be to grateful for.

Jack followed them. He was intrigued by the changes taking place. This new Cal wasn't something he ever thought would happen. Like Rose, he wondered where this man had been during their engagement. He was glad Cal wasn't like this back then, however. Jack was ashamed of himself for thinking it, but he knew Rose would never have run away from this Cal. He wouldn't even have met her. Maybe that meant he would still be alive, but Jack didn't want to give up Rose, not even for another chance at living. He tried but couldn't imagine how his life would have gone without her. And it was always possible he would have died anyway, and if that had to happen, he was glad for those few days with her. They made dying easier to bear.

Amazingly, it was when they moved into the hotel that Cal noticed Jack's presence again. He was so much a part of Rose's home he blended in; he belonged there just as much as the dozens of books. They hadn't been there an hour when Cal felt it, the eyes watching him. Instinctively, he looked around and laughed when he saw nothing. Of course there was nothing there. What did he expect? He tried to shrug it off, but the feeling persisted. It wasn't quite as strong as before. Then the eyes had felt judgmental; now they were just there.

"What's wrong?" Rose asked.

"Do you feel that?"

"Feel what?" she said. "Are you cold?"

"No, the temperature's fine," Cal replied. "It feels like there's someone else here….like someone's watching us."

"Are you serious?"

"Can't you feel it?" he said.

Rose shook her head. "I don't feel anything, dear."

"I could swear there was something," he said. "I don't know why. I've felt it before. Remember the first weekend you spent with me? I felt it then. It's as if there are eyes on my back."

"Did you get enough sleep last night?"

"I'm not tired," he said. "That isn't it."

"Are you still worried about those new companies you're buying?" she asked. "Or about the way things are being handled in Pittsburg?"

"I'm still worried about everything," he replied, sighing. "That's nothing new. It takes a lot of effort to maintain this confident exterior, liebling." He grinned as he said it.

"Oh, is that what you do? I always thought it was arrogance and apathy," Rose said jokingly. "I never knew you worried about things."

"You aren't supposed to know," Cal said. "If I want to keep my position, I can't feel that way."

"You don't have to be that way around me." She put her hand on his. Cal looked down at her, amazed yet again by how much he loved her. "I know," he said. "I can't tell you what that means to me."

"I know," Rose said. "Cal, you'll always be safe with me."

"Before you, I never thought of myself as unsafe. I was untouchable. I was too high for anything to disturb me."

"You weren't just untouchable by the bad things," she said. "And you weren't lovable."

"I couldn't love," he said wryly. "Not really. What I felt was a selfish affection, jealousy, desire." He turned her hand over and stroked her palm. "When I'm with you, I don't care about myself so much."

At that moment Rose would have agreed to marry him if he asked. She almost wanted him to. Saying yes would have been so easy. But he didn't. The moment passed, and her anxiety about marriage—particularly to him—returned.

…

Every afternoon on her way from work Rose stopped by her apartment to check the mail. Most of the time she didn't have anything, but she made a habit of checking anyway. It was their third day at the hotel when the invitation arrived. The envelope was plain; her name and address were printed on the front. She was shocked to find it contained an invitation to Frank and Edith's wedding. Why would they invite her? This was the very question she asked Cal later that evening. "I barely know Frank, and Edith must hate me after what happened with Michael," she said. "It doesn't make any sense."

"They invited me too."

"You're part of the family. They have to invite you," she pointed out. "I don't know what she was thinking."

"She was thinking she wants you there," Cal said. "Maybe she still wants to be your friend. Maybe she doesn't think what happened with Michael is any of her business. Stranger things have happened."

"Indeed," Rose said. "Are you going?"

"I suppose so. I would probably be the only one from my half of the family. I suppose I'll be our emissary."

"What do the others have against Edith?" she asked.

"Nothing, really. They don't care if Frank marries her. They don't think much of him, to be honest. They may not think much of Edith, but it isn't personal. She's a poor cousin, but she has to be tolerated, even defended if necessary. Frank's the disappointment."

"Why? He seems perfectly intelligent, pleasant, presentable. What don't they like about him?" she said.

"He isn't more like me," Cal replied. "He was their hope for wresting control of the family away from me, taking the business. He hasn't."

"I can't imagine you allowing that to happen," Rose said.

"That's why I'm not a disappointment. And that's why he's always been happier."

…

"Do you think we should pretend not to know one another?" Rose asked.

Cal didn't look up from his file. "Why would we do that?"

"At the wedding. It seems rude to spend the evening together with Michael there," she said. "Don't you think?"

"Liebling, I will do whatever you like," he said. "If that means forcing myself to ignore you for a few hours, I'll do it. I don't see the point, though. He has to find out eventually. Everyone will find out eventually."

"You want them to find out."

"Yes. I didn't at first," he admitted. "I wasn't sure we could handle it. My family won't be pleased I've decided to marry some unknown woman with no fortune or even a good name to recommend her."

"Oh, is that what I am?" Rose lifted an eyebrow.

"That's how they'll see you. You know that. They liked you before, but—"

"They'll fight it," she finished.

"They won't win, if that's what you're worried about."

"That isn't what I'm worried about," Rose said. But in a way, it was. The return of the old Cal would be a victory for them, and that's what she feared marriage would bring.

….

"You're here," Frank said, stepping into Cal's office. "It's incredible. Every time I come up here, you're rushing off somewhere."

"I'm a busy man," Cal said placidly.

"Not too busy to come to my wedding, I hope."

"No, I'll be there," Cal replied. "Though it is rather short notice. Only three weeks from now? What were you thinking?"

"We were thinking we're tired of waiting," Frank said. "It took two years to convince her to marry me. I'm afraid she'll change her mind."

"She won't. She loves you."

Frank smiled. "Do you really think so?"

"Of course," Cal said. "Anyone can see it. The two of you have been heading for this since you were children."

"I didn't invite my parents or yours either."

Cal gave him a searching look. "Do you think that was a good idea? They'll have even more reason to object now."

"I don't care. I'm tired of worrying about what they'll say. Our whole lives we've had to worry about what people will say, what _your_ father will say," Frank said. "Don't you ever want it to end?"

"Yes," Cal said. "I do."

"If they want to treat me like a child and threaten to take away my job, fine," Frank said. "I'll find something else. I have plenty of money saved. We'll survive. I won't let them ruin this."

"You shouldn't. Don't let anything stop you."

"Thanks," Frank said. "I wasn't expecting so much support from you. I knew you'd be better than the rest of them, but I didn't think—"

"I know," Cal said, waving away the rest of the comment. "But I'm seeing things differently now."

"You should get married too. You need a wife."

 _I am. I have one_ , Cal wanted to say. "You're right," he said. "I do."

…

Cal arrived home early, a stack of files under his arm. He still had at least three hours of work left to do, but he preferred doing it there, while Rose read. At least they were together that way, and he wasn't distracting her. He felt the presence the moment he walked in. Jack lay across the top of the wardrobe. During the day he moved back and forth between home and wherever Rose was, keeping an eye on her. He sat up, hoping it was her. Disappointed, he watched Cal settle in to work. Didn't he ever do anything else?

Cal looked around, sure someone else was there. As usual, though, the room was empty. He shook his head, annoyed with himself. It was stress. What with the new acquisitions and the uproar Frank's marriage was sure to cause—and not being able to marry Rose—how could he not be seeing things? Or rather, sensing them?

But why did it only happen when he was with Rose, or when he was alone in a space they shared? No matter what was going on, he never felt this way until she came back into his life. Cal looked around again, slowly. Something was there, even if he didn't know what. "Jack?" he heard himself say. His voice was loud in the silent room. Jack eyed him curiously. He hadn't expected Cal to figure it out. With a blink, he was gone, back with Rose again.

…..

It was best, Rose decided, to handle the invitation in person. She was nervous going into the building where Edith worked. The last time they saw each other was at dinner, a few days before she broke off the engagement. She didn't know what Michael told her, but she was sure it wasn't pleasant. How could it be?

"Edith?" Rose smiled hesitantly. Edith broke into a wide grin. She came around the desk and enveloped Rose in a hug. "It's so good to see you!" she cried. "This is such a surprise. You should've told me you were coming."

"I wasn't sure I was coming until I got here," Rose replied. "I was nervous about seeing you."

"Nervous? Why?"

"Well, after what happened with Michael I didn't think we would be seeing each other again," Rose explained. "Not as friends, anyway, but then I got your invitation, so I thought I should come and talk to you."

"You're coming to the wedding, aren't you?" Edith said.

"If you really want me there, but won't Michael—"

"Don't worry about him," Edith said. "He's my brother, and I love him, but we were friends first, remember?"

"Yes," Rose said, relief in her voice.

"I want you there. I want all of my friends there. He doesn't get to dictate the guest list. I know you had a good reason for ending the engagement," Edith said. "You don't owe me an explanation. If you want to talk about it, you can."

"I'd like to," Rose said. "Not right now, but maybe over dinner or lunch sometime?" She had forgotten how much she enjoyed Edith's company. Cal was wonderful, but she couldn't talk to him about everything. Sometimes she needed to talk to a woman.

"How about dinner tomorrow?" Edith suggested. "We'll go out." Rose know she suggested that so she could avoid seeing Michael, and she was grateful. She had to face him eventually, but she wasn't ready yet.

"That sounds perfect," Rose said. "I'll meet you at the usual place?"

"Yes. Oh, Rose, I have so much to tell you," Edith said. "You can't imagine."

"I bet I can," Rose said.

….

Cal was engrossed in paperwork when she came in. "Hard at work as always," Rose said, placing a kiss on his head. He reached back to squeeze her hand. "That's how I make those millions," he said pleasantly.

"And you can never have enough money." She dropped onto the bed next to him with a sigh. She slipped off her shoes. "How was your day?" she askd.

"It wasn't terribly exciting," he said. "I went to a meeting. Read some papers, signed some papers. Another meeting. Lunch. More papers. Phone calls, one from my father. I enjoyed that," he added drily.

"I can tell."

"You look tired," Cal said. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine. I just had a long day," Rose answered. "I spoke to Edith. We're having dinner tomorrow. I hope you don't mind eating alone."

"I don't mind, liebling. Finally, I can go somewhere decent again," he joked. "Where everything costs more than a dollar."

"You loved last night's dinner, and you know it. I loved being able to pay for it."

"Maybe I did like it," he said. "The coffee was good."

"Do you want to go back there tonight?" she asked.

"I'd like that. If you'll let me pay this time."

"Fine," Rose said, sighing dramatically. "But that means I'm having pie."

"I don't know if I can afford pie."

"Then I don't know why I'm in this relationship." Rose kissed him. "I guess I just love you."

"I love you, Rose."

She kissed him again. "Say it the other way."

…..

They walked hand-in-hand. Cal's clothes were too rich for the neighborhood, but he only got a few curious looks. His demeanor was open, friendly, and he smiled at the people they passed. Rose was amazed by the change in him. Could he really be the same man? Yet again, she wondered what would have happened if this were the Cal she met first.

They were given a table in the corner, away from everyone else. Rose had taken her hair down and brushed it until it shone. Her eyes still looked tired, but Cal thought she was beautiful anyway. He reached across the table and took her hand. It felt so right to reach for her, to touch her. No-one was looking at them, but he wished they would. He wanted everyone to know she was with him. In the past, he'd shown her off, but this was different. This was pride in her as a person, not as an ornament.

"Should I tell Edith about us?" Rose asked. "We have to start telling people. You're right about that. I may as well start with her."

"Are you concerned about it getting back to Michael?"

"No. Well, a little," she admitted. "I don't want to flaunt the fact that we're together. I don't want him thinking you're the reason I didn't marry him."

"How flattering for me."

"You know what I mean," she said.

"I do. Rose, you can't control how he reacts," Cal said. "You shouldn't worry about it."

"Aren't you worried about how people will react?"

"No," he replied. "I don't care. As long as I have you, it doesn't matter. What can they do?"

"Take away your inheritance? Your job? Your money?"

"My money is my own now," he said. "There's more for me to inherit, but I can make that. I can make even more, if I try. And as for my job, I doubt my father will want the scandal dismissing me would cause. He also wouldn't want me getting a positon somewhere else, considering everything I know."

"It sounds like you have everything figured out."

"I usually do," he said.

"They could ostracize us. Refuse to acknowledge our marriage. Ignore our children. They might even try finding you another wife," Rose said. "Would that matter?"

"They can only do that if we stay near them," Cal said.

"Are you suggesting we leave?" Her surprise was obvious. "How can we? Your work is here. You're going back and forth all the time already. What will you do if we move across the country?"

"Stop going back and forth," he said matter-of-factly. "Liebling, I've been thinking about this. You don't want to live in that world, and I'm not sure I do anymore. If we stay near my family, near people who know us—"

"Assuming they remember me," she pointed out.

"They will. How could they forget you? Even if we do everything quietly, this will get out, especially if we're married. I didn't want anyone to know, and part of that was because I liked having you as a secret. I wasn't ashamed," he added quickly. "I just didn't want this ruined the way it was last time."

"I dread my mother finding out most of all," Rose said. "I can already hear what she'll say."

"You haven't seen her since that night, have you?"

"No," she said. "We write, occasionally. You've been taking care of her. I should thank you for that."

"You don't have to," he said. "It's nothing. I forget the money goes to her. It's certainly not more than I can afford."

"It's generous all the same. For all you knew, I was dead or with another man. Supporting my mother was part of the deal when I was supposed to be marrying you. With me gone—" Rose shrugged. "Why bother?"

"It was my fault you were gone," he said.

"I made a choice."

"But as you pointed out before, I didn't make things any easier for you," Cal said. "And I considered us already married, or I acted like I did." This got a low chuckle from Rose. "And I thought you'd want me to," he went on. "It was like with Fiona. I thought you'd want me to take care of her, so I did. I waited a bit too long to start caring about what you'd want, though."

"Maybe it was supposed to be this way," Rose mused. "I wonder where this man was when I met you, but I'm not sure it would have worked no matter what you did. You could certainly have made better choices, but the truth is, I didn't want to marry _anyone_. I'm not sure I would have married Jack. I loved him," she said. "I still love him. Part of me always will. The wonderful thing about him, more than anything else, was that he offered freedom. He was the freest person I've ever met, and he wanted to give that to me, and he did. I felt trapped long before I ever met you. It was after we met that it started to feel permanent, overwhelming. I was suffocating, and no-one noticed." Her eyes were heavy. If he had still breathed, Jack would have held it. He put his arms around her from behind, passing through the chair. "I love you," he said.

Rose felt the warmth of his embrace, and her spirits lifted. Cal squeezed her hand, unsure of what to say. She looked into his eyes, and for the moment she wasn't afraid. "Ask," she said.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes," Rose said.


	12. Chapter 12

For a moment it was as if nothing had changed. She and Edith were having dinner together like old times. It could even have been before Michael. Rose thought back to the day Edith introduced them. He looked so handsome with his hair a little too long and his new shirt. He was shy at first, hesitating when she offered her hand for him to shake. "Excuse him," Edith had said. "He doesn't usually talk to women."

"That's not fair," Michael said. "What she means is I don't usually talk to such pretty women."

Rose found herself smiling at the comment, much to her surprise. It was such an obvious compliment, and yet, she liked the way he said it. "Flattery will get you nowhere with me," she said pleasantly.

"You don't like being told nice things?" he said.

"I like honesty."

That surprised him; she could tell. He looked into her eyes, deciding what he thought of her. She lifted her chin. "Well?" she said.

He broke into a grin. "Well what?"

"Do I pass inspection?"

"Who said anything about that?" Michael asked.

"Your expression."

Edith stood back, watching them. She didn't intend to play matchmaker; it just happened that way.

"I'm glad you came," Edith said, standing up to greet her.

"Of course I did," Rose said. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know. I thought maybe you'd decide against it. Most of the family isn't speaking to me right now, you know."

"Because of Frank?" Rose said.

Edith nodded. "They can't believe I'm marrying him. They're absolutely appalled. Sick with shame."

"What's so wrong with him?"

"He isn't my kind," Edith explained. "Poor relations marry other poor relations, not second fiddle wealthy ones. I believe," she went on. "It's the second fiddle part that bothers them most. If he were in the position to inherit, well, that would be different."

"You mean they'd rather you married someone like Cal?"

Edith gave her a surprised look. "Yes. I didn't realize you remembered his name. You two didn't seem to get along."

Rose's heart quickened. Should she tell her now? "We didn't at first," she said, choosing her words carefully. "What do you think of him?"

"Cal? He's alright, I suppose. He's not my favorite person, but he's usually better than the other cousins—in the past few years anyway. Losing his fiancée really seemed to change him. He wasn't exactly pleasant afterwards, but as time went by he was…different, somehow. Not so distant. Anyway, he's been the most supportive one about the wedding," Edith added. "Michael's furious, but he won't admit it."

"He is?"

"Oh sure. Spends all his time at the office now. When he is home he just sulks," Edith said. "Part of it's you, but—" She stopped.

"It's fine," Rose said. "I can handle it. I'm sure I upset him. He has a right to be angry with me."

"What happened between you two?"

"Didn't he tell you?" Rose asked.

"All he would say is you refused to marry him. He didn't give a reason. I asked and asked, but he only sulked more."

"To put it simply, I realized I couldn't marry him," Rose said. "I told him as kindly as I knew how."

"What else? I know there's more."

"I told him things about myself, my past, things I thought he should know," rose said. "He took it badly. I was having doubts. I'd _been_ having doubts, for a lot of reasons. When he got upset, that was it."

"About other men?" Edith said.

"How did you know?"

"I know my brother," Edith said. 'He may not seem like it, but he's the jealous type. I can't imagine what he said."

"Until then I didn't want to marry him, and after he didn't want to marry me." Rose took a breath. Did she dare. "Edith, there's something I need to tell you."

"What is it, Rose?"

"I've started—there's someone else now," Rose said.

"Who?" Edith said, leaning forward. "Are you bringing him to the wedding?"

"You could say that. We'll both be there."

Edith's brow furrowed. "Have I met him?"

"Do you remember Cal's fiancée?"

"A little, not really," Edith said, confused. "I only met her once." She titled her head. "Now that I think about it, you look a bit like her. She was more delicate, though, like she'd break if you touched her. Not like you."

"Yes, like me," Rose said.

…..

Cal was already in bed, asleep, when she came in. She did her best not to disturb him as she undressed and got into bed. He rolled over and put an arm around her. "How did it go?" he asked in a voice still thick with sleep. His eyes remained closed.

"I was hoping you wouldn't wake up."

"I don't sleep well when you're not here," he said.

Rose snuggled against him. Jack watched from the top of the wardrobe. He'd seen it happen, but he was curious about how she would tell it.

"I told her about us," she said.

Cal's eyes opened a crack. "Did you really?"

"I told her everything."

He was fully awake now. "How did she react?"

"She took it rather well, actually. She was more receptive to the idea than I expected."

"When you say everything, do you mean—"

"Everything," she said. "Our whole sordid tale."

"I wouldn't call it sordid," he said. "Colorful, maybe."

"Unique."

"I'll accept that," he said, tightening his arm around her. "I missed you tonight, liebling."

"You didn't enjoy your posh dinner?"

"No, I did. It just wasn't as good without you there to mock everything," he said amiably.

"I'll mock things for you tomorrow," Rose promised. She settled in to sleep. It seemed to Jack she was smaller when Cal held her.

…..

The next few weeks passed by with little incident. The work on Rose's apartment was finished, and they moved back in. "It's definitely improved," Cal said, surveying the now-spacious rooms. "You don't have enough furniture, though."

"Don't you mean 'we'?"

He smiled. "Ja. Wir haben nicht genug Möbel."

"You're really willing to live here with me?" Rose said.

"I am. You sound doubtful."

"It's difficult to imagine you being content with a place like this, even after the improvements," she said.

"It has a certain charm, now that I've gotten used to it."

"You'll never be able to invite your friends here," she pointed out.

"Oh, I could," Cal said. "But I doubt they'd come. Maybe for a quick look, so they can say they saw the depths I've sunk to."

"Is that how you feel, Cal?"

"Meine liebling, you know it isn't," he said, touching her curls. "I don't want to marry you just to change everything about you. I love you the way you are. I'm not ashamed of it."

"I worry about it sometimes," she said.

"I know you do. I wish you didn't. Vertraust du mir?"

"I trust you," she said. "It's the future I worry about."

"It won't hurt us."

...

They hadn't discussed when exactly they would get married. Rose wa sure Cal wanted it to happen soon, though he wasn't pressuring her. She wnated that too, but her doubts were still getting in the way. Just agreeing to marry him was a huge step, one she never expectd to take. It couldn't happen before Frank and Edith's wedidng, unless they eloped. Rose tried to imagine Cal standing in line, waiting for a clerk to marry them. The imagine made her laugh. He would never agree to that.

Rose stood in her closet, looking over her clothes. One of her dresses had to be right for the wedding. It was in two days; buying something new was out of the question. Cal had offered her a new dress several times, but she refused it. Something she already owned would have to do.

Jack studied the dresses with her. He tugged on the sleeve of his favorite, a deep blue silk and lace, one of her "good" dresses. She rarely wore it, to his dismany. Rose saw the movement. "Maybe," she said, taking it from the rack.

Jack stood behind her, looking over her shoulder as she pondered her reflection. "Wear it," he said. He wondered if she knew he was there, in spite of his efforts to stay hidden. Cal seemed to have forgotten about him. Jack wasn't sure he ever really believed he was there. It was probably a fluke.

Rose turned and stepped through him. Jack wilted. Just once he wanted to be solid again, to feel her, to have her feel him. He could make her hear him; he could make her see him, but he couldn't make himself solid enough for her to touch. He'd tried. It left him exhausted and fading away. Maintaining a corporeal body, even for a few moments, took too much energy. If only, he though, there was another way. There was. Jack simply hadn't realized it yet.

...

Cal left after Rose the next morning. He paused in the doorway and said over his shoulder, "You may want to come with me on this errnad. I need a second opinion." Intrigued, Jack followed him. So, he did believe, after all. Jack's curiosity deepend when they arrived at a jewlery store. "She doesn't care about that," he said. Cal didn't hear, of course. He wondered if he should speak loud enough for Cal to hear.

He sat on the counter and watched the clerk show Cal tray after tray of rings. Ah, that's why they were there. One by one, Jack dismissed them all. "Too big," he said. "Too ostentatious. Way too big. Are you trying to break her hand?"

"Could you show me something a bit smaller?" Cal said.

"Of course, sir," the clerk replied.

"You do get it," Jack said. But this tray contained rings whose gems were only a fraction smaller thna the previous ones. "But he doesn't." Jack shook his head. "Rose isn't like this. You know that. Find the one that's _her_."

"These won't do either," Cal said. He looked around, hoping to find something different. Something Rose. "Well?" he said, seemingly to no-one.

The light hit his eyes in response. He turned and found it was coming from the stone in a silver ring. The stone was a dark blue-green. It reminded him of the ocean. It wasn't clear, but it reflectred light beautifully. Jack held the light in his hands, pouring it across the ring. "That's what _I'd_ give her," he said. "That's my Rose."

"I see," Cal said, again, seemingly to no-one.

...

Cal didn't mind Jack's presence. In the past he would have been enraged by the very idea of it, but it wasn't such an issue now. Jack was dead. Any doubts he might have had about that were gone. So what did it matter if he lingered? There as little he could actually do. Rose was with him, not Jack. All Jack could do was watch her. To Cal that sounded worse than not being with her at all. Why didn't he just let go and move on? And more importantly, did Rose know he was there? He decided she didn't. She wouldn't bring him into her home if she knew Jack could see them. She still wasn't comfortable with the idea of Michael seeing them together at the wedding, and she certainly loved Jack more than Michael.

"How do I look?"

Cal turned at the sound of Rose's voice. Her hair was up, but a few curls were loose, which combined with the blue dress to give her a nymph-like air. She wore no jewelry. Her skin was perfect. Her hair crackled red. "Schön," _Beautiful_ he said, reverting to German unconsciously. " Wie ein Blumenmädchen." _Like a flower-girl_

Rose laughed. "I'll assume that's a good thing."

"Ja," he said.

"Well, you look rather handsome," she said, smoothing his already perfect jacket. "I'll be with the most dashing man there. Won't the other women be jealous?"

"Don't make fun. I'm part that point in my life."

"Cal, be serious," she said. "You know what you look like. You know how women respond to you. I just didn't care before."

"Do you care now?" he asked.

"Do you mean am I jealous? No. I trust you. You're free to leave at any time," Rose said.

"But I won't. Freedom means a great deal to you, doesn't it?"

"Yes," she said.

Cal reached into his pocket. Jack moved closer. "I won't take it away," he said. Rose sucked in her breathe. She knew what was coming. "I want to give you more, Rose," he went on, opening the box.

Her eyes widened. "Cal, it's beautiful."

"Do you mean that? You like it?" he said.

"I love it," she said happily. "It's perfect."

"It's a labradorite," Cal explained. "I discarded a few dozen perfectly good rings before I found it. It's not the sort of stone one generally uses for—"

"It's perfect." Rose said again. "I love it."

Jack's pleasure in her happiness was bittersweet. Yes, it was perfect. He knew it would be.

...

The wedding was a small affair. People she recognized from Michael's office were there, along with Edith's friends, and what she assumed were Frank's freinds. She and Cal sat near the back. Rose smiled and applauded as the newly married couple passed. Cal gave them a smile and nod.

The guests spread across the reception hall. Rose's arm was in his. "Uncomfortable?" she said.

"Not a bit. Are you?"

"No."

Frank radiated happiness. "Cal, you came!" he said.

"Of course," Cal replied. "Didn't I say I would?"

"Rose, you look lovely," Edith said.

Cal smiled proudly. "Doesn't she?"

"No, you look wonderful, Edith," Rose said. "I can't imagine a more beautiful bride."

"Can you believe we're married?" Edith said. "I can't."

Frank put an arm around her waist. "I can." He turned back to Rose and Cal. "Did you two come here together?"

"Yes, actually," Rose said. "Your cousin was kind enough to escort me here tonight."

Frank looked from Rose to Cal. „"Is that so? I didn't know the two of you got along so well."

"Very well," Cal said with a smile at Rose.

Understanding flashed in Frank's eyes. "Did you know?" he asked Edith, who nodded. „"Why didn't you tell me?" he said.

Edith shrugged. "It wasn't up to me to tell."

"Well, this is a day for celebration—and surprises," Frank said. „"If you'll excuse us, we have to gereet the other guests." His eyes were hard to read. „"Dance, won't you?"

When they were gone, Rose said, „"Is it just me, or did he not seem happy about this?"

„"We surprised him, that's all. He's probably upset with us for usurping his wedding—if he's upset about anything," Cal replied. „"Don't worry about it, liebling. Frank's the least of our problems." Cal was wrong, but he didn't know that yet.

Jack watched them dance. His jealousy grew with every step. It wasn't fair. Cal was a good dancer, but he wasn't good enough for her. Rose laughed as he twirled her. Jack knew he should fight those feelings. He's been doing so much better lately. Cal's presence didn't annoy him at all; he was willing to tolerate him, for Rose's sake. It was the ring that started it back up again. Of course Cal was going to give her a ring, but did he have to ask him to go along? _You didn't have to go_ , Jack reminded himself. That wasn't true, though. How could he resist? Cal knew that.

What happened next wasn't intentional. Jack didn't even realize it could happen until it did. One moment he was standing there, staring at Cal, wishing he could be in his place, and the next he was. Jack blinked, confused by the barrage of new sensations. Cal's heart beat; his blood flowed; air moved through his lungs. Rose's hand was warm and solid in his. He felt the curve of her waist under his other hand.

Cal was still there, pushed aside, but struggling to get back. Mentally, Jack built a wall between them, shutting Cal's consciousness out as if he were asleep. Rose looked up at him with concern. "Are you alright?" she asked.

He grinned. "I'm fine," he said, pulling her closer. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He leaned down so their foreheads touched. He breathed deeply; she smelled exactly the way he remembered.

"I love you," he whispered

Rose kissed him in reply. His memories were pale reflections of this. Jack fought the urge to kiss her more deeply. This wasn't right. In the back of his mind, he knew it wasn't right. It wasn't fair to Rose. She thought she was kissing Cal, not him. She _wanted_ to kiss Cal. She didn't even know he was there. But holding her again felt so good. A few minutes couldn't hurt, he reasoned, if that's all he did.

„"Rose?" Michael's shocked voice broke their silence. Rose turned, stepping back. Cal/Jack's arm stayed around her. "Edith said you were coming, but I never thought you'd come with—with him," Michael said accusingly.

„"I have every right to be here with him," Rose said.

Cal's body was bigger than Jack's, and he felt its power. He never felt particularly weak when he was alive, but his strength was different. He fought differently.

"I supppose you do," Michael said. "I just never expected it." He cast a look at withering look at Cal. „"He's not the kind of man I thought you'd choose."

"He's _your_ family," Rose pointed out.

"Even so," Michael said.

"I'm right here," Jack said, slightly indignant on Cal's behalf.

Michael ignored him. "I've called you a few times," he said.

"I didn't know."

"Well, clearly you've been busy," Michael said. "Taking up with new people." His tone made clear how disgusted he was with the idea.

"That's not your concern," Rose said calmly.

"Are you marrying him?" Michael asked.

"What?" Rose said, incredulous.

"You wouldn't marry me," Michael said. "So, I'm curious if you'll say yes to him. Or will you agree only to change your mind?"

"You know that isn't what happened," Rose said, trying to keep her tone even. "It didn't happen that way. I—"

"Leave her alone." Cal's voice was quietly threatening. He took a step forward, keeping a hand on Rose. "She's said enough to you already. She doesn't have to explain herself any more."

"I think she does," Michael said.

"She doesn't." Jack/Cal looked him in the eyes. Cal was still behind the wall, but Jack felt him getting stronger. He didn't know if it was the threat to Rose causing it, or if his hold was just weakening. "It's not the place for it, but I'll make you leave her alone if I have to."

Rose watched the exchange, mesmerized by Cal. "Come on," she said, tugging on his hand. "This isn't necessary."

"It is, Rose."

Michael stared at them for a long moment; finally, he shook his head and walked away.

"I could have handled him," Rose said.

"I know you could've. If I weren't here, you would have."

"But you were here," she said. "So, you had to show how tough you are."

"I had to show I'd protect you." Jack put his hand on her face. He slowly caressed her cheek with his thumb, sending a shiver down her spine. It was an odd gesture, coming from Cal; it was something he didn't do. It reminded her of Jack. "I'll always protect you, Rose." He exhaled and was gone, back to watching them, unseen.

Cal blinked a few times and looked around. He felt like he'd just woken up, but he was wide awake. The last few minutes he remembered only vaguely, the way one remembers a dream. Rose laced her fingers through his. "Why don't we go home?" she suggested.

Cal nodded. "I think we should."


	13. Chapter 13

Cal felt strange for the rest of the day. He was unusually quiet. Rose thought it was because of Michael. She tried to bring it up, but he didn't seem to hear. Jack watched from the ceiling, his feelings a tangled mess. He'd gotten so close to her; he touched her, kissed her, and now he was back on the ceiling, watching, silent and invisible. She didn't even know he was there. Her attention was focused on Cal. He wasn't sure getting close to her again was worth it if he felt this empty afterwards. It was worse than when he first understood he was dead.

 _April 15_ _th_ _, 1912_

" _Rose." Jack curled up next to her, his arms around her. Someone had wrapped a blanket around her, but she was still cold. Her skin was like ice; she trembled against him. He couldn't remember how they got into the boat. All he remembered was being in the water, holding her hand; the pain was so intense, but then he was just tired, his body so numb it was almost warm. Could he even move anymore? His eyes kept trying to close. He heard Rose singing. Was her voice that weak, or was he getting further away? He had to hold on for her; he couldn't leave her yet. It wasn't time. It wasn't fair._

 _Jack held her tightly, trying to warm her. She didn't seem to notice he was there, but soon the trembling stopped. Her face was deathly pale, though her lips gradually faded to pink again. She turned so her face pressed against his chest. "It's gonna be alright, Rose," he said._

 _He climbed onto the ship behind her, and that's when he noticed something was wrong. She held the blanket closed around her and walked away, ignoring him completely. "Rose?" he called, catching up with her. She didn't stop. She looked straight ahead. He put a hand on her arm. Nothing. It was as if he weren't touching her at all. He saw the grief in her eyes, and he knew._

 _Present_

"Are you upset about Michael?" Rose asked. They lay in bed; neither was able to sleep. His arms were around her, her back against his chest. Cal's lips brushed her bare shoulder. "No," he said. "I don't care about him."

"Is it something else?"

"I'm not upset," he said. He didn't know how to explain what happened—or what he thought happened, more likely. "I have to go back to Pittsburg next week." That was probably it. The stress of seeing his family, Franks' wedding, knowing he had to tell them about Rose soon. It all came together at once and left him feeling disconnected, light-headed. He just needed to relax.

"How long will you be gone?" Rose asked.

"Not long."

"And how long is that?" she pressed.

"A week. Two, at most," he answered.

"That's a long time." She put her hands over his; she was already as close as she could get.

"Come with me." He kissed just below her ear.

"I can't."

"Why not?" he said.

"I have a job that requires me to be there five days a week," she said. "Eight hours a day. They don't take it well when people don't come in because they want to go on a trip."

"You could quit," Cal pointed out. "You can get money without working now. I made sure of that."

"So I can be at your beck and call?"

"So you won't be worried about it. So you'll have some freedom," he said. "Isn't that what you want?"

"Cal." Rose turned to face him. In the dim light she saw his hair falling around his face. He looked so much younger this way, softer. "It helps," she said. "But I can't quit. Not yet."

"And you won't go with me?"

"I doubt they would like it," she said.

"Marry me then," Cal said. "They can't say a word if I bring my wife."

"Do you mean that?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't," he said. "Think about it."

….

Frank was already waiting when Cal reached the office. "Is there a crisis I'm unaware of?" Cal said.

"No." Frank sat comfortably, his back to the door.

"Then to what do I owe this honor?"

"I wanted to speak to you," Frank said.

"What about?"

"Rose."

"Ah. I see," Cal said. He sat down, back straight, hands clasped. "What do you want to say?"

"Have you thought this through?"

Cal let out a low chuckle. "I didn't expect this to come from you, Frank. I knew it would happen eventually."

"I'm serious," Frank said. "She's a great girl, but—"

"She isn't good enough for me. Is that it?"

"Not good enough for your family," Frank replied. "You know she isn't. They'll never stand for it."

"They didn't mind the last time," Cal said evenly.

"But she left you, and quite badly, I understand."

"What happened back then doesn't matter," Cal said. "It's over. I caused a great deal of it."

Frank was persistent. "She left you for another man."

"I pushed her into it," Cal said. "She wasn't happy. I knew that. I thought…I did everything wrong."

"And you think it won't happen again?" Frank said.

"I know it won't. I'm marrying her. She loves me this time."

"Did you think maybe she's after your money?" Frank said.

Cal could only laugh heartily. "Rose? After money?"

"It's possible," Frank said, offended.

"No, it isn't. That just shows how much you don't know her," Cal said. He leaned forward. "This is none of your business, Frank. It's not your sister's business or my parent's. The only people who matter in this relationship are Rose and myself. Unless she changes her mind, I'm marrying her."

"I'm only looking out for your best interests," Frank said.

"You're looking out for _your_ best interests, and I'd expect nothing less."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Frank snapped.

"You know what it means." Cal turned his attention to the papers on his desk, dismissing him.

…..

Rose tried to avoid him, but Michael was determined to get her alone. He cornered her in the stacks. "Rose, I need to talk to you."

"No, you don't," she said, trying to step past him.

"I do. What happened at the wedding was uncalled for," he said. "I know that. I was upset."

"Fine."

"Please, Rose, we were friends once. You almost married me," he said. "Can't we talk?"

"What is there to talk about, Michael?"

"I just don't understand. Why him?"

"Cal isn't so bad," Rose said. "He's not-I thought he was terrible once too, but he isn't. He just liked to see that way. He doesn't show people who he really is."

"Because then people would like him. I get it."

"It's more complicated than that," she said. "I'm not going to explain or justify anything to you. Our engagement ended before my relationship with Cal began." Or rather, before this version began.

"I introduced you," Michael said, shaking his head.

Rose almost laughed. To think, he knew so little about her, and she nearly married him. What was she thinking? "I knew him before we met," she said. "In some ways, he's been in my life for a long time. I always knew of him."

Michael looked stunned. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry, Michael," she said. "There are so many things I didn't tell you. I thought it was best. I was trying to put that life behind me completely. I was wrong. I should have told you everything."

"How many have there been?" he demanded. Jack stepped in front of her.

Rose's voice was flinty. "I don't owe you an answer."

"I'm sorry, but suddenly you're marrying not just someone else, but my cousin, the rich cousin I thought I introduced you to, only no, you've actually known him for _years_ , and that's one more thing you didn't tell me!" he spat. "So, yes, I'm sorry for not being happy for you, but I'm afraid I don't understand what's going on at all."

Rose kept her voice steady. "I didn't want to talk about it ever again. I wanted to put it all behind me."

"So, you lied to me."

"I didn't lie. I—"

"You did," he said accusingly. "You let me believe you were the kind of girl a man marries."

Rose's eyes were icy. "Get out of my way. Don't bother me again." She shoved past him before he could respond. Jack followed, fighting the urge to send a bookcase tumbling down over him. She ducked into a corner. Her hands shook. Closing her eyes, she pressed her face against the cool wall. Jack hugged her. "It's alright Rose," he whispered in her ear. He pressed his hands over hers, warming them. His warmth flowed through her, replacing the heat of anger with the comfort of an embrace. Her breathed slowed to normal as Jack sang softly in her ear.

…

Cal ignored the light at first. The meeting was only just getting underway; he couldn't end it because of a glare, even if it was triggering a migraine. He breathed deeply, determined to ignore it. It wouldn't let him. No matter where he stood or how he turned his head, the light followed. He told someone to close the shades. It didn't help. No-one else seemed bothered by it. He assumed he was imagining it. Stress was causing it, or lack of sleep, maybe. Perhaps the migraine was causing it, rather than the other way around.

Frustrated by Cal's lack of response, Jack sent the water pitcher rolling across the table. It landed on the floor at Cal's feet. Quickly, Jack moved the water, drawing shape Cal couldn't ignore. Well, not if he admitted what it was.

Cal stared at the water, seeing the rose but not convinced he was really seeing it. It glittered like a diamond, and head aching, he finally understood Jack was trying to tell him something. "Wasn't there a better way?" he said under his breath. Jack replied by making the rose bigger.

…..

A cold wind blew, biting through her coat. Rose turned the collar up and put her head down. She nearly walked past him. Cal reached out, touching her arm. "Rose."

She turned, startled. "Cal? What are you doing here?"

"I came to get you," he said.

"You aren't even supposed to be finished at work yet."

"I finished early," he said. "I can make that happen, remember?"

"And you just-"

"It's too cold to walk," Cal said. Their eyes met, and he saw what happened—not the scene but its impact on her, and he knew why Jack was so insistent. Without a word, Rose lay her head against his shoulder. "I'm glad you came," she said.

…

Rose leaned against him. His arm was around her. It was warm in the car, and the steady vibration lulled her into a light doze. She hadn't realized how exhausted she was until she let herself fall on him. The weight of Michael's words, his glare, sat on her shoulders for the rest of the day. How dare he say such things? She was willing to admit his right to be upset, but he'd gone too far. Or, had he? Was he right? That question echoed in her ears.

"Come on," Cal said softly.

Rose blinked. "Where are we? I thought we were going home."

"We are, just not yet," he said. "I'm taking you to dinner first."

"I'm not dressed for it."

"So?" he said. "You look lovely to me."

"That's sweet of you, but I doubt anyone else will agree," she said. She looked out at the imposing building. They were a long way away from her neighborhood. "It's not a good idea. I won't blend in." Her tone was flat. Cal wondered at the change in her. What happened? He wanted to ask but didn't. She would tell him when she was ready. Waiting was difficult, though.

"Yes, you will," he said. "You don't ever stop being a lady."

"Is that what I am?"

He lifted her chin gently. "Yes." He kissed her. "And I'm going to make you remember that."

"I thought you didn't want to change me," Rose said.

"I don't. I love you exactly the way you are, but I want to show you the good things in my world. I don't want to limit your freedom, liebling; I want to give you more."

He'd said it before. Rose moved her thumb over her ring. It was certainly intriguing. "Alright," she said. "I hardly think I'm missing anything, but let's try it."

Heads didn't turn when they walked in, though Rose half-expected them to. Aside from the wedding, this was the first time she and Cal had appeared in public among people who might know him. Her anxieties about their relationship began resurfacing, stacking up alongside the turmoil caused by Michael's accusations.

They faced each other across the table. "Is it so bad?" Cal asked.

"Well, no-one's staring at us," Rose answered.

"Why would they?"

"I may have the qualities you spoke about, inside," she said. "But externally, I don't."

"You look lovely," he said again. "In anything."

"You only say that because you love me."

"I say it because it's true," he replied. "I could get some other opinions, if you prefer."

She laughed. "What happened to your fear of scenes?"

"What happened to your fearlessness?"

The question stopped her short. "What?"

"I know something happened today, Rose," he said. "I can see it in your eyes."

"I saw Michael today," she said.

It was his turn to say, "What?"

She nodded. "He came by the library and wouldn't go unless I spoke to him. It was stupid, really. We have nothing to say to each other. I thought he wanted to apologize for what happened at the wedding, but that wasn't….It was a disaster."

Cal's voice was hard. "What did he say to you?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Rose—"

"No, it doesn't matter," Rose said. "I have no reason to see him again. It just upset me because I didn't expect it." That wasn't true, and Cal knew it. Jack knew it too. But neither of them knew what to do about it. "So," she said. "You were trying to make me miss having money."

"I wouldn't put it that way."

….

Rose had to admit there was something nice about eating in an expensive place, but even a she let herself enjoy it she knew she wasn't in danger of being dependent on it. She didn't need all this luxury, the crystal glasses, the perfectly aged wines, the soft music, the silent, attentive waiters. It was nice to indulge in, but she would live without it. And yet, it was unsettling how quickly everything came back to her. Which fork to use for what, which wine for which dish, the placement of the napkin, keeping her voice at just the right pitch. It was like slipping into an old pair of ill-fitting shoes. They were familiar enough to almost be comfortable.

"I don't think I've missed this," Rose said. "But I _have_ enjoyed myself."

"I thought you would," Cal said.

"It's different and familiar all at once," she said. "I suppose that's the appear. I couldn't do it every day."

"But sometimes?"

"Yes, sometimes," she agreed. "You're right, you know. I can't completely escape who I was. She's still there; she's part of me."

"None of us can escape who we were."

"I thought you had," she said.

"No," he said. "That scares me more than anything else." His dark eyes were solemn. "But I'm trying to make up for it. I imagine I'll spend the rest of our lives trying to make up for it."

"You don't have to do that, dear."

"Of course I do," he said.

Rose touched his hand. "We'll figure out a way to bring our worlds together," she said. "We've already begun."

…..

Cal didn't want to leave. As his departure drew near he tried to think of ways to avoid it. Rose wouldn't come with him; that was clear. He would gladly have eloped, but she deserved a real wedding. Maybe not the lavish affair they once planned, but a real wedding all the same. And he wanted people to know they were married. She was a secret now because of what people would say if they knew he lived with her. Why expose her to that?

Cal rubbed his eyes. The words blurred together. He'd read the same sentence at least seven times. He glanced at the clock. It was hardly time for bed. He heard water running. "Rose?" he called down the hallway. The bathroom waited at the end.

"In here." Rose stepped out in only a green kimono. Smiling, she motioned to him. Jack drew his knees up to his chest and tried not to watch.

Cal's hands tangled in her curls as he kissed her. Rose wrapped her arms around his neck. They moved into the bathroom blindly, still kissing. The scene of lilac drifted up from the water. Her lips moved down his neck as she unbuttoned his shirt. The rest of his clothes quickly followed. Sighing, he slipped off her kimono and followed her into the tub.

….  
Rose sat on the bed, brushing her damp hair. Cal's things were packed and ready for the morning. He lay next to her in his pajamas, a report in his hands. "You need to relax more, dear," she said, watching his brow furrow.

His mouth turned up at the corners. "I'm relaxed now."

"That doesn't count."

He looked over at her. "Why not?"

"It just doesn't. I'm talking about something more than that," she said. "I know how worried you get. You think you have to control everything, but you don't."

"Someone has to," Cal said.

"Do they?"

"Are you saying I should step back? Give up part of the business?"

"No," Rose said. "But you should take more time off. You work every day. I remember when you only went for six days in a row."

"Ah, the golden years," he said with a laugh.

"And you took five months off."

"It was easier then," he said. "And I wanted to impress you."

"You don't want to impress me now?" Rose said.

"Oh, I do."

"Cal, you don't have to," she said.

"What, impress you?"

"Yes. I don't need it," she said. "I already love you. I'm marrying you."

"Rose, I don't intend to only make up for what happened. I intend to make our lives _better_ ," Cal said. "Lielbing, I'll make you happier than you are now."

"I doubt you can," she smiled.

"I enjoy a challenge," Cal said with a grin.

"I know." Rose leaned over him. Her lips brushed his; she took the report from his hands and tossed it on the floor. "I have a challenge for you," she whispered.

His hands slid over her waist. "Do you, liebling?" She kissed him. Her hair tickled his face as she moved onto his lap.

Cal wished it could stay this way. Later, as he held her, he searched again for a way not to leave. If only she would go with him. Being apart was hard, even for just a week, and he couldn't shake the feeling this time would be different. He tried to tell himself it was just stress, but he'd never had such an intense dread before.

As he left the next morning, Rose's kiss still on his lips, he turned back to the seemingly empty room. "Take care of her," he said.


	14. Chapter 14

Cal missed her already. The trip only took a few hours, but he had a full sleeping compartment all to himself anyway. He carefully laid out his clothes to avoid wrinkles and tried to sleep. His eyes were closed, but his mind hummed. He would have to see his parents. There would be talk about Frank's marriage. He already knew what they would say and tried not to think about it. They wanted him to find a wife. His mother had been making comments for a while. But still, he knew they wouldn't take his announcement well.

And there was the merger. That hadn't been entirely sorted out yet. It was a headache all on its own. His father wanted to keep expanding the businesses, and Cal agreed, but they couldn't overplay their hand. The old man was losing his grip. Pittsburg. New York. Philadelphia. And now they were moving into Boston, and possibly Detroit. That was enough for now, as far as Cal was concerned, but he wasn't satisfied.

But then again, it would provide the perfect opportunity to take Rose away from the glares of his family and their world.

Cal sighed and rolled over. He wished Rose were next to him, her body curled into his. He held the extra pillow against his chest, but it wasn't the same. He tried to imagine she was there. The flowery scent of her hair, her warmth and softness, her voice when she teased him, her laugher. Her absence gnawed at him. He couldn't keep leaving her like this. They would have that real wedding soon.

…..

Cal's pillow smelled like him. Rose lay in the middle of the bed and pretended the blankets were his arms. When he didn't call that afternoon she wasn't worried. He had things to do. She told herself not to expect a phone call the minute his train arrived. The evening passed, and still, he didn't call. Rose began worrying, though she tried not to. Nothing was wrong. He'd gotten there. He had things to do. People to see. She hated it, but she feared losing him. It felt too good to be true, being in love, being loved back, wanting to talking to someone this much, and wanting to touch him, wanting him to touch her.

The ringing telephone woke her. Rose fumbled in the darkness, nearly knocking the phone off the table. "Hello?" she said groggily.

"I woke you, didn't I?" Cal said apologetically.

"I won't lie, dear. You did." She yawned. "What time is it?"

"A little after midnight. I almost didn't call."

"I'm glad you did," she said. "I was starting to get worried. When did you arrive?"

"This afternoon," he replied. "This is the first free moment I've had. It's been nothing but meetings since I stepped off the train."

"You sound tired. You should go to bed."

"I'm on my way," Cal said. "I had to speak to you first. Are _you_ alright, liebling?"

"I'm fine," Rose said.

"Nothing else happened with Michael? You'd tell me, right?"

"Yes, Cal, I would tell you. There's nothing to worry about as far as I'm concerned. It was a perfectly uneventful day."

"I just want to be sure you're alright."

"I know, and I am," she said. "I miss you."

"I miss you too. I'll try to come back sooner, Rose. When I get back we can-"

"We will," she said. "I want that to happen too."

"Do you mean it? You're sure?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it," she said.

"I don't know where I've heard that," he chuckled. "We'll talk about it. It'll be however you want."

"What I want is you here."

"Mein liebling, I want to be there," he said, sighing. "But I can't be. I'm sorry."

"And I can't go there," Rose said.

"Not ever again?"

"I don't think so. I'm sure your family would rather not see me. I can't imagine they'll be pleased about this."

"I'll handle them," Cal said. "Don't worry about what they'll say. As long as you want me, I'll be here." He paused. "What about your family?"

"I don't have any family."

"There's your mother," he reminded her. "Don't you think we should tell her? When was the last time you spoke to her?"

The mention of her mother tied a knot in Rose's stomach. "Two years ago," she said. "We both agreed it was best not to see one another again. I sent her a letter when Michael proposed, but she never responded. Cal, she doesn't want to hear from me."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. Why does this matter?" she asked. "You barely get along with your own parents. I would think you didn't want more coming into your life. Then again, you always did seem to prefer her company to mine." She spoke half-jokingly. "There were times when I thought she was the one you really wanted to marry."

"You know that isn't true."

"Do I?" she teased.

"She was much easier to get along with," Cal said. " _She_ liked me."

"She liked your money."

"That too," he said. "It was an odd dynamic, wasn't it? I didn't give it much thought at the time. Liebling, if you don't want to see her, you don't have it. It's your choice. I won't mention it again."

"Maybe I'll write to her," Rose said. "It wouldn't be fair for her to read about our marriage in a newspaper."

"I can do more for her, if you want me to."

"Just make sure she's well taken care of," she said. "Keep her comfortable."

"I will," Cal promised.

"And dear, go to bed."

"I'm going," he said.

"I love you."

"I love you too," he said.

"Say it the other way?"

"Ich liebe dich. Ich vermisse dich. Ich werde bald zuhause sein," he said. _I love you. I miss you. I'll be home soon._

….

Cal put away the last of the contracts with a heavy sigh. Finally, that portion of it was over. He stood up and stretched. There was a knot in his neck. His head would ache before the night was over. He wished he were going home to Rose instead of to dinner with his parents. His mother's secretary had already called to tell him Diana and her mother, Beatrice, would be there as well. That was the last thing he needed.

He read over the card one last time before putting it in an envelope. He didn't know a better way to word it. His best efforts were still inadequate. He cringed at the memory of the poetry he once wrote. Thank God for fire. If he had a violin, perhaps-No, that wouldn't work either. It had been too long. He probably didn't remember how to play at all. He wrote Rose's name on the front of the envelope and dropped it on his secretary's desk on his way out. She knew what to do. The package would arrive the next afternoon. Cal could already hear Rose asking why and what, exactly, was he thinking?

"Ich dachte, Ich liebe dich," he said to himself. "Dies würde dich glücklich Machen." _I was thinking I love you. This would make you happy._

He smiled, imagining the way her eyes changed when he switched languages. It transformed ordinary words, even though she understood more and more of what he said lately. He remembered the way her breath caught the last time he whispered into her skin. She'd been reluctant to admit how much she liked it at first. She blushed when he brought it up.

"We can't talk about it?" he said. This was in the early days, just after he moved in.

"We can," she said.

"But you'd rather we didn't."

"I never have," Rose said. "With Jack, it was all motion. It was like dancing; we didn't really discuss what happened. We just knew how much closer we were afterward."

"What about Michael?"

"I never made love with Michael," she said. "Didn't you know that?"

"Maybe I did," Cal replied. "I'm sorry."

"Because you assumed if I did with Jack and with you, I must have gone to bed with him too. Is that it?"

"I don't mind about Jack. I don't want to think about you with Michael, though. He doesn't deserve you, Rose."

"And you do?" she said.

"Not yet. Eventually, I will. Knowing how I can make you feel is a good start."

"Oh, I'm sure you're quite aware of that," Rose said.

He smiled. "Yes, you're rather clear."

Her blush deepened. "Would you prefer I wasn't?"

"No, I like it," he said.

"I like when you say things," she said. "I don't know why. I can't even understand all of it, but it doesn't matter."

"Well, then I'll talk."

The memory evaporated as he walked into the house, but the good feeling remained. It was almost like having Rose there with him. Cal rubbed the back of his neck and prepared for the ordeal awaiting him.

…..

Diana sat opposite him, next to her mother. They both wore placid expressions. So far, they'd been pleasant, but Cal knew that wouldn't last. Nathan sat at one end of the table, Angelica at the other. Angelica Hockley was a stately woman. Her ash blonde hair hadn't begun to turn yet, and her eyes were a clear, pale blue. Her skin was perfect. Ten years separated her from her husband. Nathan exuded energy and good health; only the streaks of grey in his black hair signaled his age. There were rumors he had it dyed, but no-one knew for certain. His mind was as lively as ever, but the world was changing rapidly around him. Cal didn't mind if his father kept a hand in the business forever; it was one less thing for him to do, but he was beginning to doubt his father's ability to handle things.

"Well, it's nice to have so many of us together," Angelica said. "It seems like the family hasn't been in one place for years."

"Cal spends all his time in New York now," Diana said. "He must be trying to avoid us."

"That isn't true, Diana," Cal said. "I have very little free time these days, what with the expansions in the business."

"Things in New York are coming along well," Nathan said. "Or so Frank tells me."

"Frank sends you reports?" Cal said, hiding his surprise.

"He wasn't sure you were," Nathan replied. "Any idea why he might think that?"

"No, none," Cal said. "But Frank has always been a bit overzealous."

"I told him you were keeping in contact with the Pittsburg office," Nathan said. "Everything's under control. There's no need to worry."

"Of course there isn't," Beatrice said. "Not with Caledon in charge."

"He's certainly a fine boy," Nathan agreed. "More than capable of handling the responsibility he's been given."

Cal was past 30, and yet his father still thought of him as a boy. He didn't know whether it made him feel more youthful or just inadequate. But at least Nathan was praising him. That hadn't always been the case, particularly when he was still young enough to truly be considered a boy.

"Tell us, how is my brother doing?" Diana said. "I'm afraid we don't hear from him often these days."

"I can't think whose fault that is," Cal replied.

Diana's smile froze. "Whatever do you mean?"

"It's terrible, this business with his marriage," Angelica said. "Why he chose to marry that girl is a mystery."

"We've known her all her life," Cal pointed out. "She's our cousin, not some stranger."

"Yes, and she's a very nice girl," Beatrice said. "But she's not the sort of girl a man like Frank should marry. They'll only be unhappy. I'm thinking of him, and of the children. Can you imagine what life will be like for them?"

Cal's eyes hurt. Had he once agreed with these people? Had he once blended in perfectly at these gatherings? He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "If they're in love," he began.

"If there in love?" Nathan interrupted. "Caledon, is this really you talking?" He laughed.

"Love is all well and good," Angelica said. "There should be some affection in a marriage, but suitability comes first. You don't know how I wish _you_ would find a suitable life."

Cal took a breath. "As a matter of fact, mother, I have."

"Really?" Diana said eagerly. "Who is she?"

"She's a wonderful woman," Cal said.

"We're sure she is, but who is she?" Angelica said. "Have we met her?"

Cal nodded. "You've met her."

"Well, who is she then?" Nathan asked. "And when did you decide all this?"

"Why haven't you brought her here?" Angelica asked.

"You aren't ashamed of her, are you?" Diana said, a knowing glint in her eyes.

"Why would he be?" Beatrice said in a tone that made clear she knew _exactly_ who Cal was talking about.

"I'm not ashamed of her," Cal said. "It wasn't the right time until now. I wanted to be sure, and I am. She's agreed to marry me." He took a breath. "I'm marrying Rose."

There was silence as the words sank in. "Are you talking about that girl you were engaged to all those years ago?" Angelica said. "I thought she died."

"No," Cal said. "She didn't."

"She ran away, actually," Diana said with a smirk. "Isn't that right? With another man, wasn't it? Whatever happened to him?"

"Is that true?" Nathan demanded.

"Which part?" Cal said. "That she ran away, or that I'm marrying her?"

"I hope none of it's true, for your sake," Nathan said.

"It's all true. I am marrying her, and you can't do anything to change my decision," Cal said calmly.

"Why would you _want_ to marry a girl like that?" Angelica said. "She can't be respectable."

"She's perfectly respectable," Cal replied.

"That doesn't make her good enough for you," Beatrice argued. "You sound like my poor Frank, bewitched by that she-creature."

"There's nothing wrong with Edith _or_ Rose," Cal said. "And this isn't your concern."

"It's _my_ concern," Nathan thundered. "You won't-"

"What are you doing to do?" Cal demanded. "You can't stop me. I'm not a child anymore. I can't be threatened like last time."

"I won't have that disaster mentioned again," Nathan said. "I stopped you from ruining this family's name once, and I'll do it again."

"I'm marrying her," Cal said firmly. "I hoped you would take it better, but I can see you're determined to fight me. I'm sorry. I'll be going."

He stopped in the doorway and turned around. "If you change your minds, I'll be back. If not, well, good-bye."

…..

Rose turned on the radio while she cooked. It wasn't long before the whole apartment smelled delicious. "Just because I'm alone doesn't mean I can't have a nice time," she said. "Or a nice dinner."

"Right," Jack agreed. He sat on the counter next to the stove. "He doesn't have to be here for you to be happy."

"I don't really feel alone," she said thoughtfully.

"You aren't."

"Still, I should invite someone for dinner tomorrow," she said. "Talking to myself this much can't be good."

"I'd talk to you," Jack said. "If being heard wasn't so exhausting."

She was cleaning up when the telephone rang. "Hello?"

"I called at a decent hour this time," Cal said.

"And I thank you for it." She smiled. "How are you?"

"I don't know," he said. "I told my family about us."

"And they took it well?" she said hopefully.

"So well they may never speak to me again," he replied. "They don't understand why I want to marry you. My father thinks he can stop me, like we're children running away together."

"Like he did before?" Rose said.

"This is different. I was young and naïve then. I didn't realize what I was doing," Cal said. "I'd never lived without money. I didn't believe I could. But Cassandra….I could live without her. Or so I convinced myself."

"What about his disapproval?"

"What do you mean?" he said.

"You have your own money now, but can you stand losing your father's approval? Maybe even his love?"

"Rose, liebling, I'd give up anything for you," Cal said.

"You need to be sure," Rose said. "Losing your parents, giving them up, it isn't easy. Trust me. I know. I did it."

"But it was worth it."

"Yes, it was worth it," she said. "I'd do it again without hesitating."

"Rose, I love you. I want to be with you. I want you as my wife. What we have is special. It's not something you find every day, and we both know that."

"It's not something I thought I would ever find again," she said.

"Neither did I," he agreed. "I didn't believe I'd ever love a woman the way I loved Cassandra, but I love you more. This is real, liebling."

"Now I know how Jack must have felt when I said I was getting off the ship with him," Rose said. "It's an immense responsibility having the person you love change their life to be with you. Especially when they can't go back."

"I'll miss them. I admit that. They're my parents. But I can't lose what we have," Cal said. "I'd never forgive myself if I gave up love twice."

…..

Cal couldn't sleep that night. His mind kept wandering back to Cassandra. Where was she now? Had her life turned out well? He couldn't picture her married, with children; she just didn't fit. She was so free. She captivated the whole room, no matter where they went. She was a bit like Rose, but louder, with more rough edged.

 _1904_

" _You just do whatever they say!" Cassandra cried._

" _No, I don't."_

" _Yes, you do! They tell you to come home, and you go, like a good little boy." Her eyes flashed contempt. "You won't ever stand up to them. You won't say, this is what I want. This is the girl I'm marrying."_

" _It's not that simple, Cassandra," Cal said. "My father controls_ _**everything**_ _. I have_ _ **nothing**_ _of my own. No money, no property. I don't even have a job without him. I doubt I can get one by myself."_

" _And you aren't willing to try either," she hissed._

" _I told you we can still be together. Just because we can't get married right now-"_

" _I can't believe you'd even suggest that!"_

" _Well, it isn't so different from what we've been doing is it?" he snapped. Cal saw the stunned look in her eyes as the color drained from her face; it was as if he'd struck her, and he knew he'd gone too far._

 _1920_

His eyes were dull, and his mouth tasted strange. His cheeks were pale. Cal looked at himself in the mirror. "Maybe some breakfast will help," he said with false cheerfulness.

His energy was flagging by the time he reached the office. "Sir, are you alright?" his secretary asked.

"I'm fine. If Rose, my fiancée, calls put her through. Otherwise, I don't want to speak to anyone," he said.

….

"You don't sound well, dear," Rose said.

"I'm a little tired. That's all."

"Did you stay up all night working again?"

"No," Cal said. "I went to bed early last night. I can't seem to sleep enough. I'm sure I'll be fine when I get home next week."

"Thursday, right?"

"Right," he said. "The four o'clock train. I'll meet you at your office, and we can go to dinner."

"So you can impress me?" she said.

Cal managed a flirtatious tone. "Always."

"Get some rest, Cal," she said. "You don't sound well at all."

"So I've heard."

"I meant it," Rose said. "I don't want something happening to you."

"This is why you should've come with me. You could keep me in bed just fine if you were here."

"You need _rest_ ," she said.

"Tomorrow is my last meeting for this merger," he said. "And then a dinner. Frank's handling the rest. I have a few more things to take care of, and then I'll spend the next few days resting. Sie genehmigen Sie, liebling?" _Do you approve, darling?_

"Ja," she replied. "Sehr gut." _Yes. Very good._

"Ihr Akzent ist sehr gut." _Your accent is very good._

"I've been listening to you," she joked.

When he hung up Cal's spirits were higher, but he didn't feel any better. In fact, he felt worse than he'd let on.


	15. Chapter 15

He was ill. Cal wanted to believe otherwise, but he couldn't; the signs were too obvious. His dull eyes. The dark circles. The awful taste in his mouth. His body ached, and he was exhausted again as soon as he got out of bed. What was wrong with him? He dressed slowly. He never had difficulty tying his tie until now. When he sat down to put on his shoes, he almost didn't get back up. "You don't have time to be sick," he told himself sternly. "You have things to do. Don't you want to get home to Rose?"

Rose, meanwhile, was keeping the promise she made to herself. "Gloria, do you want to come to dinner tonight?" she asked. "I'll be cooking, which isn't nearly as bad as it sounds."

"That sounds nice," Gloria said. "I'd love to."

"Wonderful."

Now there wouldn't just be the sound of the radio and her own voice. Rose knew she needed to get back in touch with her friends. Since everything with Cal began she'd drifted further and further away from them. He was important, but he wasn't everything. She had to keep up a life of her own.

"It isn't impressive," Rose said, as she opened the door.

"I've seen your apartment before," Gloria reminded her. Her eyes widened when the light clicked on. "Or maybe I haven't. When did this happen?"

"Fairly recently. Like I said, it isn't that impressive."

"Are you kidding?" Gloria said. "This place is great. It has to be three times the size it was before. How did you manage it?"

"I didn't, really," Rose said. "My-" It was almost impossible to say. "My fiance did it." But there was no other simple way of describing him.

"He did? Is this the mysterious expensive coat sender? He's sure aiming to impress now."

"Yes, it's him," Rose said. "This was our compromise. He wanted me to move, and I wouldn't."

"So he had the entire apartment redone and made it bigger?" Gloria shook her head and whistled. "That's quite the compromise. Marry this one, Rose. Michael doesn't compare."

"I'm not interested in his money."

"How can you say you're not interested in his money?"

"Because it's true. I'm not," Rose said. "That's not why I love him. The first man I ever loved had nothing." The look in her eyes was hard to read. Jack kissed her cheek, and she smiled, suddenly happy. "That's not entirely true," she said. "He had gifts. A kind heart. Strong hands. He saw me."

"You sound like you're still in love with him," Gloria said.

"Do we ever really fall out of love?" Rose asked.

"I'm not sure we ever really fall in it."

"We do," Rose said. "Trust me."

Cal didn't call her that night. He went straight to bed without even taking off his clothes. It felt so good to collapse onto the bed; finally, he wasn't dragging his heavy body around. He didn't move; he couldn't. When morning came he was in the same position he fell asleep in. For a moment he felt better His head was clear, and nothing hurt.

That didn't last. As soon as he tried to move it all came rushing back. Cal groaned. "Not today." It took several tries before he manged to roll over onto his back. He was breathing heavily by the end. Getting up was even more difficult. He stood in the shower until the hot water turned cold, but it didn't help. For the first time since his teens he rang for help dressing. His face burned with same. but he was so pale he just looked healthy again. His valets didn't do those sorts of things the way other personal servants did. They were more like bodyhuards and errand runners than anything else. There was little intimacy between them and hardly anything that could be called friendship. Keeping a distance was best. Cal always maintained control over the relationship, but looking back he saw how much Lovejoy had influenced him. He hadn't noticed it at the time. That didn't excuse anything he'd done; it was nearly all his idea. The older man just provided the extra push he needed at times. If he'd been stronger, less concerned with image, maybe-but no, that was a waste of time. He couldn't change the past.

"Here you are, sir," Rupert said as he slipped Cal's jacket over his shoulders. "Will there be anything else?"

"No. Thank you."

Cal barely touched his breakfast. It tasted like powder. He knew it would help him get his strength back, but he just couldn't bring himself to eat it.

"Sir, are you alright?" The question followed him for the rest of the day. Cal brushed it off each time. Finally, he made it back to bed. He had trouble dialing, but eventually, he made the connection. "Hello?" Rose's voice was like a beacon of light.

"Hello, liebling."

"Cal, I was worried about you," she said.

"I'm fine. I went to bed early last night. I got good, long rest, just the way you ordered me to."

"I'm glad," she said. "You still sound tired, though."

"I think maybe I slept too long, actually," he said. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Have you ever felt this way before?"

"No," he said. "I've been sick, but this is different. I just feel tired. I'm in pain, sort of like I'm sore, but not for any reason. I don't have a temperature. There's nothing wrong with my throat. My stomach doesn't hurt. None of it makes sense."

"Maybe you should see a doctor."

"It's probably stress."

"Or maybe it isn't," Rose said. "Cal, you can't risk your health. What would happen if you were to die?"

"Frank would get my job, which is exactly what he wants," Cal replied.

"Be serious. What about me?"

"I'm sorry, liebling," he said. "I don't want you to worry."

"How can I keep from it?"

"I'll call the doctor in the morning. I promise," he said. "Ich verspreche." _I promise_.

"You'd better."

...

Collecting the rents wasn't something Rose looked forward to. It felt odd to be going around taking money from her neighbors. Cal would have hired someone to do it. She heard him say, "Why make things more difficult for yourself?" Because I don't want to forget anything. He didn't believe anything would ever happen to his money. "I've taken precautions against that," he replied when she brought it up. "Trust me." But Rose knew how quickly that security could vanish; it was an illusion; nothing was ever really certain.

"Thank you, Mr. Johansen," she said, taking the envelope. He nodded at her, and she moved on to the next apartment. Cal would tell her not to do this alone. In fact, he already had, warning against robbery. Rose laughed at such fears. "You've been here for a few months, dressed in your fine clothes, and has anything happened to you?" she asked.

"That's different. You're a woman," he said. "They assume I'm someone important. I can make trouble for them. You can't."

"Who says I can't? I'm not entirely helpless, you know."

"I know you aren't, Rose. I'm just saying, you-"

"I know what you're saying," she said. "I'll be careful, dear. I promise."

"Tell me before you go," Cal said. "I'll go along."

Except the rents were due, and he wasn't here now. There was nothing to be done about it. She only had a few more left. Most people paid on time. She gave extentions to those who needed them. Why make their lives harder? Rose believed them when they promised to pay. There had been times when she didn't have the money too, for one reason or another.

She carried a small purse to throw off the potential thieves Cal was sure lurked around every corner. The money was safely tucked inside, where it would stay until she took it to the bank the next day. She was heading downstairs after collecting the last rent when she noticed the man. He stood against the wall, watching her trhough sleepy eyes. His expression was tranquil, but something about him was unsettling. Maybe it was the way he seemed to be looking at her and yet not at the same time. Rose could have sworn he was watching her, but he wasn't, not really. He displayed no interest in her at all, and yet...Rose let out the breath she was holding and kept walking. And yet nothing, she told herself. Cal could be paranoid if he chose, but she wouldn't be.

"I collected the rents today," Rose said.

"Liebling, you were supposed to wait for me to go with you/"

"I was perfectly safe. Nothing happened."

"I still don't like it," Cal said. "You shouldn't be carrying so much money around. Are you certain no-one followed you?"

"No-one followed me."

Jack bristled at the implication from his perch on the bookcase. Hadn't Cal asked him to take care of Rose? "I was doing just fine keeping her safe before you were here," he said. "She's not alone." Cal should know he was there, unless he was conveniently forgetting about him.

"What did the doctor say?" she asked.

He hesitated. "Well-"

"You didn't call him, did you? Cal, you promised."

"I know. I'll do it," he said. "There wasn't enough time today. I'm trying to get everything in order so when he tells me I need rest I can just come home. To you."

"And so you can put it off because you're afraid?"

"I'm not afraid," he argued.

"Aren't you?" she said. "I know you hate doctors. You told me a long time ago, remember?"

"Did I?"

"Yes. It was one of the few real conversations we had in those days," Rose said. "I almost liked you."

"You should have told me," he joked.

"You should have noticed."

"That's true," Cal said softly.

"I'm sorry dear," Rose said. "That's all over. Don't feel badly about it. I don't anymore."

"I can't feel any worse than I already do."

This wasn't where Rose wanted things to go. She wished she hadn't said anything. She didn't want him feeling guilty. Once, maybe, she had, but not anymore. "I love you," she said. "You know that."

"I love you, Rose."

"Have you spoken to your family?" she asked.

"No. It's up to them now," he said. "Did anything arrive for you today?"

"Like what?"

"A package," he said.

"No. You aren't sending me things again, are you?" she said. "Cal, you know better than to send me extravagently expensive things."

She heard the smile in his voice. "Of course not, mein leibling. I wouldn't consider this an extravagent expense at all.

"Now I know it's too much," she said.

"But you'll love it," he assured her. "Trust me."

...

Cal fully intended to see a doctor the next day, but there was one thing he had to do first. This couldn't be put off, particularly if he really was sick. "Ah, Bill," he said, as a large, bespectacled man came into the office. "Right on time."

"As always," Bill replied pleasantly.

"Please, sit down."

"I was rather surprised when you said you wanted to talk about your will. You haven't mentioned it in a few years," Bill said. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine. I just haven't had any reason to change it until now."

Bill laid some papers on the desk and uncapped a pen. "What are we changing?"

"Everything," Cal replied.

"Everything?"

"Yes, I want one primary beneficiary and executor of my estate," Cal said. "Forget everything we drew up before. In fact, get rid of all the old versions."

"So, you want everything to go to one person?" Bill said. "Are you sure about that? Your family-"

"My family is already well provided for," Cal said. "This hardly affects them. We're only talking about my holdings and properties, my money. I can do with it whatever I see fit."

"You're right, of course. How soon do you want it?"

"By the end of the day," Cal said. "I want to sign it before I leave the office, and I want three copies. One at your office, one at the bank, in the safety deposit box, and one with me."

"Not worried, are you?" Bill laughed.

Weariness crept into Cal's voice. It was taking all his strength to appear well. "No, just prepared," he said. "My family will fight this, and I don't want them winning. It's your job to make certain that doesn't happen."

You know I will," Bill said. "You can trust me. But what the sudden change?"

Cal smiled. "I'm getting married. I want to be sure everything's in order before the wedding."

"And she's the beneficiary and executor?"

"Yes," Cal said. "Everything goes to her. She can do whatever she likes."

...

The phone rang as Rose was leaving the next morning. "Hello?" she said hurriedly.

"Rose? It's Edith."

"Oh, hello," she said, smiling.

"Listen, I'm sorry for calling so early. I'm sure you're in a hurry."

"Not at all," Rose lied. "What can I do for you?"

"We, that is, Frank and I, need a fourth for dinner tonight. Would you come?"

"Well, I-"

"Please?" Edith said. "Frank's bringing home some client, and he sounds perfectly awful. We need someone to help keep the conversation going."

"Alright. I'll come," Rose said.

"Wonderful."

Rose hurried home after work to change. The day had been one disaster after another, and all she really wanted was to take a bath and read. She tried calling Cal at lunch, but he wasn't at the office. He'd better be at the doctor, or home resting, she thought. Knowing him, he probably wasn't.

The box was waiting outside her door. "Now, what could this be?" she mused, picking it up. "It's certainly not more real estate, and it doesn't feel heavy enough to be clothes. Though he does have a good eye for them," she admitted, glancing down at her coat.

A card was taped to the box. She opened it first. _Meine liebling Rose, it read. These reminded me of you. When you see them, you'll understand why I had to send them. Unless I completely misjudged your tastes, in which case, I'm sorry. I wanted you to have something that would make you happy and keep you from forgetting me while I'm gone. I love you._

 _Cal._

"As if I could forget him," she said. She opened the box to find a stack of carefully framed drawings. "Oh," she gasped. They were done in pencil and charcoal; that alone was enough to get her attention, but what struck her the most was how much like Jack's they were. "If I didn't know better..."

Jack studied them over her shoulder. If his heart still beat it would have stopped. "They're mine," he said. "I sold those."

Her eyes landed on the signature at the bottom. The handwriting was the same. That J. She could never forget it. Tears stung her eyes; a lump filled her throat. "Jack," she whispered. "Cal/" She shook her head. Love and grief mingled together. He wanted to make her happy. Had he realized they were Jack's? Or did he just think they were similar? No, she decided, he probably didn't notice. He wouldn't have sent them like that if he had.

Rose dialed the phone with trembling hands. This time he answered. "Hello," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Rose, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said. "I got the package you sent."

"Do you like it?" Cal asked.

"I-" A sob choked her.

"Rose?" He was alert now. "Something's wrong. What is it?"

"I love it. Thank you," she managed to say.

"Why are you crying? Did Michael-"

"He didn't do anything," she said. "I haven't seen him. The drawings, did you notice anything unique about them?"

"They resemble the ones Jack did," he answered.

"I know. I wasn't prepared for that. Are you sure that's all you saw?"

"Yes. I thought that's why you'd like them," he said. "I didn't realize I remembered what his work looked like until I saw them."

"That's because-" Rose cut herself off. "Yes, they're remarkably similar to his," she said. "It's the closest I can ever come to him."

"Rose, I didn't mean to upset you."

"You haven't," she said. "I'm very happy right now. It's a bit overwhelming."

"I know you'll always love him. I accept that," Cal said.

"Thank you."

...

"I'm not late, am I?" Rose said.

"No, you're right on time," Edith replied. "We just sat down for drinks." She led Rose into the drawing room. "Can I get you something? Wine?"

"That sounds fine," Rose said.

She found herself sitting across from a good-looking man in his thirties. His dark blonde hair was cut short; his green eyes regarded her with interest. "I'm Roberty," he said congenially. "The client."

"Rose. The friend."

"Well, Rose did they tell you I'm dull, and it's up to you to rescue the evening?" he said.

"Of course not," Rose said. "Why would they say that?"

"Robert will say anything. He doesn't think," Franks said. "Pay no attention to him."

"You're poisoning her against me," Robert complained.

"Warning her, more like," Frank said.

"Thank you, but I don't need any warnings," Rose said. "I can handle him on my own." She smiled slightly. This man was more amusing than disconcerting.

"Really?" Robert said. He studied her more closely. "Yes, I think you can."

Rose met his gaze; she kept her expression composed. This man was trying to fluster her; everything he was doing was an attempt to charm her, and she didn't intend to let that happen. He was far too self-assured. "I can't imagine anyone finding you dull," Rose said.

Robert looked amused. "And why is that?"

"You try too hard."

Frank laughed. "Let's move into the dining room, shall we?"

Again Rose found herself seated across from Robert. She glanced at Edith, who gave her a sympathetic look. What was going on? This didn't feel like a boring dinner with someone from work. Who was this man, really?

"I'm sorry you have such a low opinion of me already," Robert said, trying to catch Rose's eye. "Give me a chance to change it?"

"I don't know you," Rose said. "My opinion hasn't formed yet." Her tone was polite. She didn't want to offend him, but something in his manner unsettled her. At first he was simply a bit annoying, but there was more to it now. Something wasn't right about the whole thing. Edith seemed nervous, and Frank exuded good humor. Rose wondered if she'd made a mistake by coming.

...

"The doctor's expecting you, sir," Shelia, one of his secretaries said.

Cal frowned. "He can't come here."

"I'm afraid not."

"Fine," he said. "I'll be on my way in a minute."

He took one last look around his office. Everything was in order. It was immaculate, really. He even sharpened the pencils into perfect points before putting them back in the drawer. There was no reason to stay. Cal had the new copy of his will in his briefcase. Bill had another, and the last was being locked up at the bank, just as he wanted.

It wasn't only that getting up and walking down to the car would be difficult, painful even. Cal felt a sick dread wash over him, the same as the one he felt before he left Rose, and it kept him still. He couldn't help thinking this was the last time he'd be in this office. That was ridiculous, but the feeling was too strong to ignore.

Finally, after another prompting from Shelia, Cal made his way downstairs. He slumped against the wall in the elevator, his breathing ragged. Did everything have to hurt? He was going down the front steps when the collapse came. He reached out to catch himself, crumpling to his knees. His head spun. As the blackness rushed up to swallow him, Cal thought of Rose. Her face appeared, and for a moment everything was clear. He wouldn't see her again; that was what the dread was trying to tell him. At least she would be taken care of; he'd made certain of that.


	16. Chapter 16

"So Rose, what do you do?" Robert asked.

"I'm a librarian," Rose answered.

"Really?" he said. "You don't seem like the type."

"I don't know what makes you say that."

"You're just-You look more interesting than that," he said. "Not to mention, prettier."

"At least you're saying what you mean," she replied coolly.

Robert's mouth curled up in a grin. "I always do."

Rose wasn't sure how they'd come to this. No matter what she said, he found a way to turn it into something flirtatious. His eyes hadn't left her since they sat down. She gestured with her left hand a few times, in a vain attempt to signal her status as an engaged woman. He either didn't see the ring or didn't care. She suspected it was the second. Robert didn't seem like the type to care, if his behavior thus far was anything to go by.

Rose cast a look at Edith. She ignored all attempts to catch her eyes; her talk was light and cheerful. Rose wondered what she was thinking. Why did she invite her? This man was anything but the dull obligation guest Edith described him as. Why the need for a fourth person? Rose felt Frank watching her and turned toward him. He bent over his plate.

…..

"It was a lovely evening," Rose said. "Thank you." She pulled on her coat, glad to finally be leaving. The after dinner coffee seemed to go on forever. Edith chattered like a bird but said nothing, while Robert flirted, and Frank watched, smiling a secret smile. Nothing happened, at least nothing Rose could object to, and yet, the whole evening felt wrong. She wished Cal were with her, or at the very least, waiting at home. If only she could curl up in his arms and tell him all about this bizarre dinner.

"Thank you for coming," Edith said.

Rose breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind her. She had only taken a few steps when she heard Robert calling her name. Clenching her jaw, she kept going. So did he. "Rose," he said, catching up with her. He flashed a grin. "Pretending not to hear me?"

"I _didn't_ hear you."

"Sure you didn't," he said.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"To walk you home, if I may."

"I don't need an escort, thank you," Rose replied. "It isn't far."

"I know it isn't," he said. "Edith told me where you live."

"Why would she tell you that?" Rose's tone was sharp.

"Well, it's not the best neighborhood," Robert said, ignoring her question. "You shouldn't be walking alone at night. I'm surprised your fiancé allows it."

"He isn't in town, and even if he were, he doesn't make decisions for me."

"No, I imagine he doesn't," Robert said.

"If you know I'm engaged, you must also know I don't need another man in my life," Rose said. "Not as a potential lover."

"Who said that's what I am?" His eyes gleamed. "Or are you succumbing to my charms after all?"

"Hardly. And everything you've done so far tells me that's what you want. I don't know why I was invited tonight, but I assure you, whatever intentions you have, forget them." Rose said. "Don't follow me anymore."

Robert watched her go, an amused smile on his lips. "I'll see you again," he said.

…..

It was so cold. Cal couldn't move. His muscles were so stiff they felt almost frozen. His face pressed against a rough surface. He dimly heard the murmuring of the gathering crowd. "Who is he?" "What's wrong with him?" "Call for help." "Should we move him?"

Their words swam through his brain, leaving no impression. Not even a frantic cry of, "Mr. Hocklet!" could rouse him. The web of ache closed tighter around him. Cal let himself fall back into the darkness. At least it didn't hurt there.

…

Rose went to bed with every intention of calling Cal before work the next morning, but her alarm clock chose that particular morning to break, and she didn't wake up until an hour after she was supposed to be there.

Rose stared at the clock. 10:05. "That can't be right." The clock in the kitchen confirmed it, as did her watch. "Damn it," she muttered.

The rest of the day wasn't much better. She accidentally brought a shelf of books down on herself. She managed to jump back in time to avoid any serious damage, but a heavy case law book smashed into her shoulder. "Goddamnit!" she hissed through clenched teeth.

"Rose, are you alright?" Gloria hurried around the corner. "What happened?"

Rose looked down at the scattered books. Tears stung her eyes. She laughed drily. "Apparently, I can't be trusted among the books," she said.

"What?"

"I'm just having one of those days," Rose said.

"Did you hurt yourself?"

"My shoulder," Rose answered. "It's not that bad." There would be a bruise later; she could already feel it, but what was the use in talking about it?

"Let me help you pick these up," Gloria offered.

"Thank you."

"Why don't we go to the pictures tonight?" Gloria said. "There's a new once I've been dying to see, and you look like you could use some fun."

"Sure," Rose said. "Why not?" She could always call Cal when she got home.

…

Cal's mouth was dry. It tasted like metal. He was in a bed, but that was all he knew. He cracked his eyes open. The room was a blur. Someone was touching him; a hand pressed against his wrist. He felt his shirt being unbuttoned and a cold disc against his chest.

"Heart rate's good. Breathing's not what I'd like, but at least he _is_ breathing." The voice was familiar, but Cal couldn't place it. "Let's check his eyes." Cal tried to protest when the light was shone in his eyes, but all he managed was a hoarse groan. "He's responding. Good."

"What about this is good?" a shrill voice demanded.

 _Mother?_ Cal's lips formed the word.

"Caledon? Darling, can you hear me?" Angelica cried. She pressed a hand to his face. "You poor thing. What's happened to you?"

Cal blinked. The world came into focus. He wasn't surprised to see his own bedroom or that his own doctor was there. Angelica's presence was another matter entirely.

"Mother?" he croaked.

"Yes, I'm here," she said.

"Mrs. Hockley," Dr. Stevenson began. "If I may-"

"No, you may not," Angelica said. "I won't leave my son alone. He nearly died today. My only son!"

"Yes, I understand that," Dr. Stevenson said calmly. "But he needs rest and quiet. Someone will be with him. We don't yet know what's wrong. He may be contagious." He didn't believe this, but the need to get her out of the room took precedence over honesty.

Angelica gave him a cold look. "Fine," she said. "But I'll be downstairs. You can't keep me from him forever."

"No-one is trying to do that," Stevenson said. "My only concern is for your son's welfare. Please, Mrs. Hockley, let me do my job."

A nurse took Angelica's place at Cal's bedside. "Can you speak?" Stevenson asked. "Is there anything you can tell us about what happened? How you're feeling now? It's important."

"Pain," Cal whispered.

"You were in pain?"

Cal nodded slowly. "So tired."

"Is that all?"

"My mouth….the taste…."

"That's very helpful," Stevenson said. "Rest now."

"Wait," Cal said. "Rose." His eyes were closing. "Get Rose."

"Of course."

…..

They were leaving the theater when she saw him. Rose turned her head, hoping he wouldn't notice her. It was a failed effort. "Rose?" Robert called.

"Who's that?" Gloria asked.

"No-one," Rose said. "Let's go."

"Rose." He laughed as he reached them. "Trying to avoid me again?" He smiled at Gloria. "I don't believe we've met."

"Gloria Rothberg." She held out her hand, smiling up at her through her thick eyelashes. "And you are?"

"Robert Elwes."

"I don't mean to be rude," Rose said. "But we really must be going."

Gloria gave her a confused look. "But we don't-"

"Yes, we do," Rose said. "Remember?"

"What Rose is trying to tell you," Robert said. "Is she'd rather not speak to me."

Gloria looked from one to the other. "What's going on here? How do you know each other?"

"We met at a dinner party last night," Robert answered. "I work with some of her friends. Relatives of her fiancé."

"Oh, so you remember I have one," Rose said.

"Of course," Robert said. "I thought we settled that?"

"Your behavior says otherwise."

"How am I supposed to behave with beautiful women?" he said. "It's all harmless fun."

"I don't see anything wrong with a little flirting," Gloria said.

Rose began to doubt herself. It hadn't felt harmless; it felt very serious; it felt intrusive, and yet, how could she prove his intentions were anything but what he claimed? He hadn't behaved that way toward Edith, but perhaps married women were off-limits…or women with a man nearby. Either way, Rose didn't like it. His charm was too well-crafted. It was more than an abundance of self-assurance. There was something he wasn't telling, something he wanted from her.

"Well, I do," Rose said. "It's rude to continue after you've been asked to stop."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said. "May I walk you ladies home?"

"Sure," Gloria said.

"No," Rose said. "If you'll excuse me." She was gone before they could reply, walking briskly. Robert glanced after her. It wasn't exactly the outcome he wanted, but it would do.

…

There was no answer. Rose tried the office number first, just in case. The house number just rang. It was his private line; only the phone in his room was reachable through that number. She could try the main telephone number, but would that be any more useful? It wasn't late. Even if he were in bed, Cal always answered the phone.

"Maybe he unplugged it," she said. "Or left it off the hook so he could rest. Maybe something happened with his family, and he's with them. He probably called while I was out." These were all plausible explanations, but she didn't believe any of them.

"There's nothing to worry about," she told herself. "He's fine. He's _Cal_. What can hurt him?"

 _Plenty of things. He's not invulnerable. He's just good at looking that way._

"He'll call in the morning," Rose said. Jack hugged her. "He will," he said reassuringly.

…

Nathan's face was grim. "How is he, doctor?"

"To tell you the truth," Stevenson said. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? What do we pay you for?" Nathan demanded.

"He's alive," Stevenson said. "And mostly conscious. Responsive. I can't tell you what's wrong yet. His symptoms are unusual. It could be a number of things. I'm afraid I'm simply not sure yet."

"What are we supposed to do in the meantime? Wait and see if he dies?"

"I'm doing all I can. You'll just have to trust me. I don't want anything to happen to him," Stevenson said. "Do you think I enjoy losing patients?"

"You don't want anything to happen to your reputation," Nathan said. "That isn't your son in there." His voice rose. "Figure out what's wrong and what to do about it. Now!"

….

"We came as soon as we could," Beatrice said. Angelica nodded. Beatrice touched her hand. "You poor dear. I know how awful this must be."

"Do they know what's wrong?" Diana asked.

"No," Angelica said. "They can't tell us anything. He's barely spoken since it happened. He's asleep most of the time."

"That may be for the best," Beatrice said. "Rest can only help. Build his strength up."

"That's my hope," Angelica said. "I wish that nasty business about his marriage hadn't happened. I can't even think of Cal dying without some kind of reconciliation."

"So you mean you're willing to approve of his marrying that girl now?" Diana said.

"I don't know," Angelica replied. "Perhaps."

"Why don't you go upstairs and see if you can be of any help," Beatrice suggested to Diana. "Maybe something's changed."

"Of course."

Cal was alone. The room was dim; the air was thick with sickness. "My poor cousin," Diana said softly.

Cal's eyes fluttered open. "Rose?"

"No, it's me, Diana."

"What are you doing here?" he said.

"Mother and I came to see how you were. We were worried," she said. "Everyone is."

"Worried about what they'll get when I die, perhaps."

"You shouldn't talk that way," she said. "You know how much the family cares for you."

"Do I?" he said. "Is Rose coming? I asked for her….I think it was yesterday. No-one will tell me."

"Someone will send for her," Diana promised.

"They haven't yet?"

"We've all be concerned about _you_ ," she said.

"Get her," Cal urged. He closed his eyes. "I need her. I need Rose here."

"Yes, of course." Diana picked up the water pitcher. "You also need water. I'll make sure you get some."

Normally, Cal would have noticed when Diana didn't ring for a servant but instead fetched the water herself. He also would have noticed her pour something into it before setting the pitcher on the table next to his bed. But the circumstances were anything but normal, and he accepted the drink she offered without hesitation.

…..

Rose called again the next day. No-one answered in his office. "He may be there anyway." Cal never left in the middle of the afternoon, but he could be in a meeting. She tried his secretary's line. "Mr. Hockley's office," a brisk voice said.

Rose laughed. "I'm sorry," she said. Relief flowed through her. Finally, someone was answering. "Is Mr. Hockley in?"

Shelia spoke in a guarded tone. "May I ask who is calling?"

"This is Rose, his-"

"Didn't they tell you?" Shelia said.

"Tell me what?" Rose said. Her palms began to sweat. "Is there something I should know? Did something happen to-"

"I'm sorry, miss. I can't talk about it."

"Why not?"

"Please. I really can't say anything. I've said too much already."

"No, you have to tell me!" Rose insisted. "If he's-" There was a click, and then the tone. Rose stared at the telephone in her hand. "What's happening?" she said. Fear gripped her. She dialed the next set of numbers quickly. "Answer," she said. "Cal, answer."

Instead, a smooth male voice she didn't recognize said, "Hockley residence."

"I need to speak with Cal," she said. "It's important. Is he there?"

"I'm sorry, miss. I'm afraid I can't help you."

Rose didn't try to sound calm. "What do you mean?" she demanded. "Why not? Where is he?"

"I cannot help you, miss."

"You have to tell me!" she cried. "He wouldn't just disappear. He wouldn't ignore me like this. I'm his-"

Just like before, there was a click and then the tone.

Rose let the phone fall back into its cradle. She slumped down in her chair. "He wouldn't disappear," she said again. "He wouldn't ignore me. Something is wrong." But what? And with all communication blocked, how could she find out?

Jack knelt down in front of her. He held her trembling hands. "Maybe I can help," he said.

….

Cal's breathing was shallow. He felt himself growing weaker by the hour. For a while he almost felt better, but something changed, and he didn't know why. No-one listened when he asked for Rose. They nodded and spoke in soothing tones. It was a conspiracy to keep him quiet. They wouldn't send for her. They wouldn't tell her anything until it was all over, until he was dead and buried, if they bothered to tell her at all.

The will.

They'd have to tell her. How could he have forgotten it? It was iron-clad. They couldn't fight it; they'd lose if they tried. The whole thing would be an expensive scandal. But that didn't mean they wouldn't find other ways to make Rose miserable. When Cal wrote the will he didn't seriously think he would die anytime soon. It was just a precaution. When he did eventually die, Rose would be his wife. Anyone tempted to contest his will would be held in check by that fact. But she wasn't his wife yet. His protection ended when his life ended, in spite of his best efforts.

Cal gathered his strength. Slowly, he climbed out of bed. His legs wobbled. He leaned on the wall for support. When he finally reached the telephone it was unplugged. For his own good, they'd say if he asked. Too much noise. And what a convenient way to keep Rose from speaking to him. What must she be thinking?

There was no answer. Cal's heart sank. Making this call once was difficult enough. What if he didn't manage to do it again?

"I will," he vowed. "I'll get through to her."

As he fell asleep it occurred to him that Rose wasn't likely to accept his disappearance without question. She went down into a sinking ship to rescue Jack. Surely she'd put that much effort into finding him. But would she find him in time?

…

At first Jack wasn't sure he could find Cal. He'd never gone this far away from Rose. He closed his eyes and focused on Cal. His essence was still all around the apartment. He just hoped it would be enough.

Jack opened his eyes to an oak paneled room. A fire crackled cheerfully. This was Cal's house. Jack felt him everywhere. He looked around, but all he saw were two women, one older, one younger. Angelica dabbed her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief, while Diana nodded sympathetically.

"I don't understand what's happening," Angelica said. "He was in fine health a few days ago."

"I know. It's baffling," Diana said. "But sometimes it happens this way. Perhaps he only _seemed_ healthy. He's always worked so hard. Taken so little time for himself. Maybe that caught up with him."

"Could that really be the reason?" Angelica said.

"Maybe. We've got to stay positive, no matter what," Diana said. "Cal's going to get better."

"I'm trying to have hope," Angelica said. "But things look so hopeless now. And it all happened so quickly."

"Is he still asking for her?"

"Yes. He won't stop," Angelica said. "I'm afraid we may have to send for her after all."

Rose. So they _were_ keeping them apart intentionally. "Not for long," Jack said.

Finding Cal's room was easy. Jack was shocked by his haggard appearance. Gone was the robust man who left Rose barely two weeks earlier. "What happened?" Jack wondered. He touched Cal's forehead and felt only cold. "I'm sorry."

Cal's eyes opened. "Rose?"

"No. I'll get her," Jack promised.

Cal lifted his head. It was like he could see him; Jack shrank back. "Don't leave her alone," he said. "You can't help me."

"But I can bring her here," Jack said.

 **AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! This will probably be my last update until January. I have time off next month, and I won't be able to post with any regularity. There *will* be updates, though, as soon as the holiday whirl is over. I promise!**


	17. Chapter 17

The reason Jack felt like Cal could see him was, simply, because Cal _could_ see him. When he first appeared he was transparent, an obvious ghost, but when he came back, he was solid; he looked alive. Speaking was almost too much for Cal; his voice was a thin whisper. "What are you still doing here? You were supposed to get Rose."

Jack looked down at him, a sorrowful look in his eyes. "I'm trying," he said.

"Try harder. I don't have much time left," Cal said.

"Sure you do."

"I'm dying. I'm not stupid," Cal said. "I can _see you_. You've been dead for years. Do you think I don't know what that means? Please," he begged. "I need to see her one more time. It's not for me. It's for her. There are things…" His strength was fading. "There are things she needs to know," he said. "Arrangements I made….to take care of her." His eyes were so heavy. It was always such a relief to sleep, but when he woke up he never felt any better. "They'll try to take…."

Nodding, Jack disappeared.

….

Figuring out how to let Rose know wouldn't be easy. She couldn't see him, and he couldn't just write her a note. What he needed, Jack decided, was some way to tell her that she couldn't ignore or dismiss. Or, if no way could be found, he needed to find a way to get her to Pittsburgh and into Cal's house. He needed her to believe she had to go, whether she realized why or not.

Rose sat in bed the next morning, the telephone in her lap. She'd tried every number at least a dozen times. Either no-one answered, or they hung up as soon as they heard her voice. The whole situation was as baffling as it was frustrating. What could be happening that would keep Cal from speaking to her?

It wasn't his choice; of that she was certain. He loved her. He wouldn't just disappear without a word unless something happened. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of his shirts. It was draped across the chair. "That's odd," she said. She picked it up. "This was in the closet." Cal never left his clothes lying around. He never left any of his things lying around. Shrugging, Rose returned it to its place in the closet. When she turned around, one of his watches was on the table. "I must have a ghost," she joked, putting it back into its case. No sooner had she done that than she smelled coffee brewing. "Where's the coming from?" she said, laughing nervously.

In the kitchen she found the burner on low, and the percolator set up. A bag of Turkish coffee sat on the counter. It was Cal's favorite. Mechanically, Rose turned off the burner and moved the percolator. It must had taken hours for the water to boil. She'd left it on; that was the only explanation. Never mind that she didn't drink coffee. "Maybe I was sleep walking," she said doubtfully.

Rose looked around uneasily. That wasn't what happened, and she knew it. Jack stood next to her. "Figure it out, Rose," he said. In the other room she found the German-English dictionary open. The words for _sick_ had bene circled. Heavy pencil marks had been placed under the letters in Cal's name. Shaking her head, Rose put a hand to her mouth. "What's happening?" she said. She traced the marks on the page. "This doesn't make any sense."

Jack whispered in her ear. "That's why you should trust it." Rose turned, and for a moment it was as if she saw him. He touched her face. "He needs you," he said.

…

Rose ran along the platform, a hastily packed bag in her hand. Her ticket was in her other fist. She didn't breathe easily until she was in her seat, and the train was speeding down the tracks. She hadn't called her job to let them know she wouldn't be in; she hadn't told anyone what she was doing. She'd grabbed some things and left, overwhelmed by the sense that Cal needed her. All the pieces came together as Rose stared at the dictionary page. It defied reason; there was no way for him to be doing any of it.

In fact, she wasn't convinced it was him. In that moment, Rose felt Jack. His presence was stronger than it had been in years. She almost expected to find him standing there. He wasn't, of course; that was simply _too_ unbelievable. Even now, she felt him. The air closed around her, like an embrace, like _his_ embrace. Whatever she was heading into, Rose was sure it was where she was supposed to be, whether how she got there made sense or not.

….

A hand brushed his face. "Rose?" Cal whispered. He opened his eyes. Diana gazed down at him. "It's me," she said. "Rose isn't here."

"Where is she?"

"I don't know," she said.

"You didn't tell her to come, did you?"

"Cal, of course we did," Diana said. "How can you ask such a thing?"

"I know you. This family…It's the kind of thing I would have done once," Cal replied.

"Did it ever occur to you that she may not want to be here? It _is_ possible caring for you in your hour of need isn't what she expected when she talked you into this engagement," Diana said impatiently.

Cal gave a weak laugh. "Rose isn't like you. And she's better than me. She always way. I just didn't…I didn't appreciate her before…" A faraway look came into his eyes. "If I had…."

"I don't care what you say," Diana said. "She's proven she isn't fit to marry into this family."

"I thought it wasn't safe to upset an ill person?"

"I only want you to see the truth," she said. "Here, have some water."

"No. I don't want anything."

"You have to try and keep your strength," she said.

Cal turned away from her. "Let's not delude ourselves, Diana. If you really want to help me, you'll get Rose."

Diana scowled as the door closed behind her. This wasn't going according to plan at all. He wasn't even supposed to have collapsed yet. Something must have gone wrong with the dosage. He couldn't die, not until they were sure everything was safely in their hands, but he couldn't be allowed to recover either. If Rose managed to get to him somehow, the whole plan would be ruined; all their efforts would have been for nothing. Diana took a deep breath. That wouldn't happen. The phones were being monitored, and it wasn't likely he could even sit up, much less walk across the room and dial the telephone.

Rose might suspect something was wrong; indeed, how could she not? But with no access to Cal, there was nothing she could do about it. Unless she came there looking for him. "Well, if that happens, we'll simply have to deal with it," Diana told herself. "She isn't the first girl to be chased away from him."

…..

Rose awoke as the train jerked to a stop. "Finally," she said.

She stepped off the train half-expecting someone to recognize her. "Don't be absurd," she said. No-one knew she was coming, and who would care if they did know? The girl she'd been was long gone, dead for nearly a decade.

It wasn't until she was in the taxi that she began thinking about what to do next. She couldn't simply walk up to the front door and expect to be let in. If Cal's family wouldn't allow her phone calls to reach him, they certainly wouldn't allow _her_ near him. She tried to recall the house. Cal's room was in the front, on the second floor. She'd never been in it, but he'd told her about it. There were two servants' entrances in the back. Perhaps she could use one of those.

"Here we are, Miss."

Rose gazed up at the house. It hadn't changed at all. Cal's curtains were drawn. He was up there, hidden behind them. She knew it.

"Miss?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, handing the driver a bill.

He glanced at the $20 and decided not to question the generous tip. He smiled and thanked her. "Yes," Rose said, barely hearing him.

She hurried around to the back of the house. There was the kitchen door, just as she remembered, It was sure to be unlocked, but the kitchen was also sure to be full at this time of day. No, that wouldn't work. The other door led into the servants' hallway. Rose looked through the window; all was clear. She turned the knob. It didn't move. "No," she said, shaking her head. "It can't be locked. Who would lock the door during the day?" On the other side, Jack flipped the bolt.

Angrily, Rose jerked the knob. The door swung open. She let out a puzzled laugh. "I was right," she said.

Quickly, she slipped through the servants' hallway and up the back stairs. She shrank against the wall, heart pounding, as footsteps approached. "He won't stop asking for her," Diana complained. "He doesn't seem to even appreciate his own family anymore."

Rose couldn't help but be pleased. Cal _did_ want her.

"He's very ill," Beatrice said. "We must be patient."

Their voices faded as they went down the front stairs. Rose waited until she was sure they were gone before hurrying to Cal's door. She pressed her ear against it. Silence.

"Oh." Rose gasped softly. Cal lay in bed, eyes closed. His skin was sallow. His uncombed hair looked even blacker against his sickly pallor. The room was dark, save for a few candles. The air was thick and heavy with disease. Rose could hardly breathe. It was like he was already dead. The room looked more like an elaborate wake than an invalid's chamber.

"Cal?" Rose knelt by the bed. His hands were cold. "Can you hear me?" She touched his face. His breathing was slow and shallow, and as she listened, she knew he was preparing to stop soon. "No," she said. In a loud voice she said, "You can't do this, Cal. You can't die." She pressed his hand to her lips. "I won't let you. I let Jack die. I won't make that mistake with you."

His eyes opened slightly. "Rose?"

"It's me," she said. "I'm here."

"They finally listened. I didn't think they would."

"Your family?" Rose said. "They didn't tell me anything. They don't even know I'm here."

"You came after me?" he said. "You didn't know?"

"Something told me to come. It doesn't matter now. Getting you better is what matters."

"You can't," Cal said.

"What do you mean I can't?" she demanded, her voice rising again. "Cal, don't tell me—"

He chuckled weakly. "Mein liebling, Ich habe dich vermisst." _My darling, I missed you._ He gave her a sad smile. "Ich glaube nicht, dass ich Sie wieder zu sehen. Das war der schlimmste Teil." _I didn't think I'd see you again. That was the worst part._

"Sie gehen in Ordnung zu sein," she insisted. _You're going to be fine._

"We don't have much time, liebling."

"I'm not leaving," she said.

"I know," Cal said. "I have to tell you about the will." Before she could protest he added, "Please, Rose, let me say this. Talking so much isn't easy for me." She kissed his hand; tears glistened in her eyes. More than anything, Cal wanted to ease her pain. He didn't care about his own anymore or about his looming death; he just wanted to protect Rose. It might have sounded strange, given his past behavior, but that was something he always wanted. He just hadn't always understood or admitted it.

He knew everything when he asked her to marry him the first time. He'd been advised against it, but no-one could convince him not to do it. And no-one could oppose their union outright. She was too suitable in other ways.

Rose looked so young the night he met her, so fragile. He wanted to offer his protection right then. She called out to a part of him long buried. And now, she was here, and he had the chance to protect her one last time. It wouldn't be as strong without him here, but it was the best he could do. "Rose, there's a key in my jacket pocket," he said. "It opens a safety deposit box. There's a copy of my will there. Everything is yours. My lawyer has another copy, and there's one more in my case….over there…." He pushed himself to keep going. "They may have found it already. They'll try to get it, but they'll lose. Trust me, liebling. I made sure."

"But Cal, I don't want your money," Rose said. "I've never wanted your money. I want _you_." She kissed his cheek. "Nur Sie, mehr als je zuvor." _Just you, more than ever_

"If you can't have me, this is the best thing." His dark eyes were somber. "Rose, liebling, I did everything I could to make this will unbreakable, but you aren't my wife yet. That changes things."

"What are you trying to say?" she asked.

It took all of his strength to sit up. "Marry me, Rose," Cal said.

She stared at him. "Now?"

"Yes, now. As soon as we can."

"You're sick," she said. "You should be resting, not worrying about this. And no-one will marry us now. There will be plenty of time to think about this later."

"We don't know that. Liebling, I may die," he said. Behind her, he saw Jack. He sat on the bookcase, chin on his knees. His eyes were down. _He's always there,_ Cal thought. He already knew, but it was more real now.

Rose's shoulders shook. She pressed her face into his sleeve. Cal felt her tears soaking through the fabric. "Don't cry, Rose," he said. "Bitte Lebling, nicht weinen." _Please darling, don't cry._

"How can you ask me not to when you…." She wiped her eyes. Cal reached for her, but he barely moved. His arms were too weak to hold her properly. Anger washed over him. This wasn't right; it wasn't fair. He was wasting away, dying, and why? There was no reason he could see. He had Rose. He was happy, finally, for the first time in years. He had something to live for. In that moment, Cal could have given up everything, his fortune, his power, his name, just to stay alive and be with Rose.

He managed to lift her head. "This isn't what we planned, but we have to do it now," he said. "If we're married, they can't hurt you. They can't make you leave."

"They can't do that anyway," Rose argued.

"Maybe not, but they can try. You remember what I was like. They're the same way. Some of them are worse. What they might do to you….I can't even think about it." He glanced at Jack, guilt blending into his anger.

"How are we supposed to do this?" Rose asked. "You aren't strong enough to leave, and no-one's going to come here."

"Don't be so sure about that," he said.

"You truly believe you can get married from a sick bed?"

"Why not?" Cal said. He grinned. "Ich kann alles tun." _I can do anything_.

"Dann können Sie auch überleben," Rose said. _Then you can also survive._

….

Rose hid in the closet when Angelica same in with the dinner tray. "Your cheeks are flushed," she said. She laid a hand on his forehead. "Do you feel any different?"

"No, about the same," he replied.

She studied him. His eyes were brighter; he was sitting up. "You don't feel any better?"

"Maybe a little." It wasn't a lie. He did feel a little better. It was a subtle change, and he wondered at its cause. Could it all be from seeing Rose?

"I still think the nurse should be up here with you," Angelica said.

"I don't need a nurse."

"Of course you do," she said. "Caledon, you're very ill. It may be difficult for you to accept, but you are. I wish it weren't true."

"Mother, please, I'd rather be alone," he said.

"I'll send Diana up to sit with you."

"No," he said as forcefully as he could. Angelica gave him a puzzled look. "Mother, I'd rather just sleep," he said. "Please."

"Alright. But be sure to eat something."

When she was gone he said, "We should lock the door. Diana's sure to come up here now."

"She's right. You need to eat," Rose said. She reached for the water pitcher. It toppled over before she could take hold of it. Water spilled across the floor. "How did that happen?" she said, tilting her head. "I didn't think I touched it."

Cal looked over as Jack appeared next to him. He hadn't even noticed he was gone. "You did it," he murmured, too low for Rose to hear.

"She can't drink that," Jack warned. "And you shouldn't either. The water's what's making you sick."

"It can't be."

"It is," Jack insisted.

"I'll have to get more," Rose said. "I'm sorry for making such a mess." She disappeared into the bathroom. Jack followed. "See that?" he said, throwing light onto the fine dust at the bottom of the pitcher.

"That's odd," Rose said. She rinsed out the pitcher and left it by the sink, an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

….

Rose wouldn't have believed it if she wasn't part of it. Cal told her who to call, and when she mentioned his name, they all agreed to do whatever she asked. Smuggling them into the house and up to his room was surprisingly easy. It was like they had an invisible lookout, which, in fact, they did.

The scene was bizarre. Cal sat in bed, clad in fresh pajamas; Rose wore the clothes she came in. His lawyer was there along with a grey-haired judge. "I'm sorry it has to be this way," Cal said to Rose. He held her hand. "But if we don't-"

"Everything will be fine," Rose said. "Including you. I'm only doing this now to make you feel better."

"It's still not the wedding I imagined."

She squeezed his hand. "I ran away from the wedding you imagined, remember?"

Jack watched from the bookcase. He wanted to leave but couldn't. He was rooted to that spot. This wasn't his moment; he wasn't part of their lives, and yet, wasn't he? Would any of it be happening without him? As they recited the vows, Jack wished it were him she was saying those things to. Rose was tired and rumpled from traveling, hungry and worried, but somehow she had never looked more beautiful. The love in her eyes made Jack's heart ache.

Cal saw it. He saw _her_. He was filled with an overwhelming urge to live, stronger than before, stronger than the night the ship went down. He couldn't leave, not yet. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jack, and he knew how he felt. To find her, love her, and then lose her all at once. To lose any hope of a life with her. And to watch her with someone else. The thought was unbearable. How could Jack stand it?

….  
Rose lay next to him, her arms around him. The curtains were wide open, the windows cracked. "You need light in here," she said. "And some fresh air." The heat was strong enough to keep them warm, and Cal had to admit, the changes helped, if only in his mood. "What will we do now?" Rose asked. "Someone will come up here eventually."

"We'll handle them," Cal replied.

 **AN: Just a reminder, I don't speak German. I get all of it from Google translate, so if I've made a mistake, please let me know. I'm not completely happy with this chapter, but I had to move the story forward.**


	18. Chapter 18

They slept undisturbed, thanks to Jack. He created distractions that kept everyone away from their door, knocking pictures from the walls, bowls from hands, untying shoes, tugging on skirts, and generally acting like a typical, bothersome ghost.

Cal lay against Rose, his head on her shoulder. Her arms encircled him. He held her weakly. She stayed awake as long as she could, stroking his hair. If she was alert enough, she could keep him alive.

Jack let them rest for as long as he could. He wished he could make the night stretch on, but when Angelica came upstairs after breakfast, he knew it was time to let the world back in. She tried the door, and finding it locked, frowned. She knocked lightly. "Caledon?" Nothing. She twisted the knob again. "Caledon?" she called, louder this time. Her frown deepened. Why was the door locked? She knocked harder. "Caledon? What's going on?"

Rose looked around, startled by the sudden noise. The room was unfamiliar. She smiled when she saw Cal in her arms. He yawned and opened his eyes. "You're still here," he said. "I thought it might have been a dream."

"No, I'm here," she said. She kissed his forehead.

"Caledon!" Angelica banged her fist on the door. "Are you alright? Why is this door locked?"

"I'm afraid we've been found," Cal said.

"I should get dressed. We can't keep her out there much longer." Rose had known Cal's family would come in sooner or later, but she still dreaded the looming confrontation. Was this how Jack felt when she dragged him back to her suite?

….

Rose offered Cal a glass of water. He drank it in one gulp. "It tastes different," he said. "Better."

"Perhaps that means _you're_ getting better."

"I feel a little better," Cal said. It was true, but he didn't put much faith in it. Jack was still clearly visible on the other side of the room. "You need something to eat and a bath," Rose said. She brushed back his hair. "Which would you like first?"

Cal tried to grin rakishly, but he was still too weak for it to have much effect. "Are you going to be there for the bath?" he said.

"I am your wife," she said demurely, a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Wives don't do things like that. Nurses do."

"Would you rather I didn't?" she said.

Cal shook his head. "I don't want you to be like anyone else. Be Rose." He laid his hand over hers. She was startled by its warmth. There was a new brightness in his eyes. She was about to respond when another knock came. It was heavier and more insistent than before. "Cal?" Diana called. She tried the knob. "Why have you locked the door?" She nearly jumped back as Rose opened it. Angelica let out a soft gasp of surprise. Diana's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?" she hissed. "How did you get in this house?"

"Cal sent for me," Rose replied calmly. The rings glittered on her left hand. She had the bearing of a queen. Diana didn't remember her possessing this much dignity; she didn't remember her as so resolute or her voice was so firm. In her mind Rose was a small thing, a pretty but insignificant girl who somehow managed to attract men from all circles. That Rose would have been easy to push past, but this one, this real figure, wasn't so easily moved.

Rose looked past her to Angelica. "I'm sure you'd like to see him," she said. "You must be very concerned, as I was when I didn't hear from him." There was a note of reproach in her tone. "Come in." Rose stepped aside.

Jack moved closer, curious to see what would happen next. He sat on the bedside table, ignoring Cal's look.

"What is the meaning of this?" Diana demanded. "Cal, why is she here? You're not well. This girl shouldn't be here, and I'm sure your mother agrees."

Angelica's jaw was tense, her lips thin. "Your condition is serious," she said. "The last thing you need-"

"The last thing I need is for my wife to leave," Cal said. He pulled himself up and looked directly at them both. His voice was strong. "And Rose is my wife, despite what any of you may thing or how you feel about it," he went on. "To be honest, I don't care about any of that. I'm even willing to overlook the fact that you deliberately ignored my wishes-what could very well have been my _final_ wish." He drew in a shaky breath.

Rose hurried to his side. "Cal, you shouldn't overexert yourself like this."

He took her hand. "I'm fine liebling."

"You will be," she said. 'But now you have to-"

"That need to hear this," Cal said. "They all need to realize I'm not dead yet. What I want still matters."

"He's delirious," Diana said. "That's the only explanation for this nonsense."

"You can't possibly be married," Angelica said. "You've been in this house for days. You're an invalid."

"Maybe we were already married," Cal said. He chuckled at Diana's aghast look. "No, we weren't," he added. "Not until yesterday when Rose arrived. You shouldn't be so surprised, Mother. I'm capable of fantastic things when I put my mind to it. You've always thought so. A secret marriage isn't so difficult."

"Why?" Angelica asked. "Why do you insist on hurting your family? If not with one common girl than with another? Don't you appreciate _anything_ your father and I have done for you?"

"I love Rose," Cal said. "That's all there is to it. I couldn't marry her before. I didn't deserve her. I didn't love her, not enough, not the way I should have, but I do now. I can't explain it any other way. I'm not asking you to like it or even to approve. I don't care what you think."

"Cal, this isn't good for you," Rose said.

"She's right," Jack agreed. Cal tilted his head toward him. "Well, it isn't," Jack said.

"I feel better," Cal said.

"But you aren't well, dear," Rose said.

"He isn't in his right mind," Diana sniffed. "Aunt, you ought to have this sham dealt with."

"I'm not a child," Cal said. "And there is nothing wrong with my mind. If you want to remain in this house or anywhere near me for that matter, you'll cease all such talk. You won't say another word against my wife or her being here."

"I'm impressed," Jack said. "I don't know what I expected. Guess part of me was afraid you'd collapse under the pressure."

"I'll be taking care of him," Rose said.

"You?" Angelica said. "But he needs a trained nurse."

"She'll do a better job," Jack said.

"No-one can do a better job than Rose," Cal said.

"Don't let anyone else near your food," Jack warned. "Don't act like you can hear me either. You'll just look crazy. Trust me, alright? Have Rose make everything and bring it to you."

….

Diana twisted the phone cord around her fingers. "I don't know how she got here," she hissed. "But she's here, and they're claiming to be married."

"Why can't you just get rid of her?" Robert asked.

"Cal won't hear of it."

"He's dying, for God's sake!" Robert exclaimed. "Why is anyone listening to him?"

"He may be dying, but he's alive now, and he's throwing his weight around like always," Diana replied. "Angelica's telling Nathan everything now. I expect another scene."

"Does this change our plans?"

"No, not yet," she said. "Frank's still handling things? He hasn't lost his nerve?"

"He's fine," Robert said. "He doesn't know anything anyway. As far as he's concerned, stepping into Cal's shoes is temporary, a favor. He's just keeping things running smoothly during a crisis, but between you and me, he's starting to enjoy it."

Diana smiled. "Of course he is. At least _that_ part is still going correctly." Her smile faded. "You were supposed to keep an eye on her. Make sure nothing like this happened."

"I tried."

"Clearly not hard enough," she said.

"What can I say?" he replied. "She's not you."

"I almost believe you."

"Believe me." Robert's voice was silky. "I'm not interested in her or anyone else. This is our plan. Your brother gets the business, and all the stress that comes with it, and _we_ get the money."

"We won't get anything with her around," Diana said grimly. "Even if he dies, she'll inherit it all. He probably changed the will already."

"We'll just have to find a way to change it back," Robert said.

…

"I don't know what's happening," Jack said. "All I know is something's not right."

"You think I'm being poisoned," Cal said. "Yesterday you spilled the water and told me not to drink it."

"There was something in it."

"How do you know?" Cal asked.

"I don't know. I just know," Jack answered. "And when Rose went to rinse the pitcher, I saw it. Some kind of powder at the bottom. I showed her."

"You think my family's trying to kill me. Why?"

"Not all of them," Jack said. "I don't think your mother wants anything to happen to you."

"No, probably not. She-Well, I haven't had an easy relationship with either of my parents."

"I'm sorry," Jack said.

"I don't see the need for all this precaution," Cal said. "I'm already dying. Whatever they did, it's taken its effect."

"How can you be so sure? So ready to give up?"

"I can still see you, can't I?" Cal said.

"You told Rose you felt better."

"To cheer her up."

"No," Jack said. "It wasn't a lie. She saw it, and so did they. It's not much, but it's been a day since you last drank that water. Maybe if you're not given it regularly, you'll start getting better."

Cal tried not to look hopeful. "It's possible."

"I know you want to live. Dying was easy when she wasn't here. You didn't really want to, but you could handle it." Jack's eyes were wistful. "She gives you something to live for. You didn't even know you needed something else."

Cal knew he was talking about himself as well. Possibly more. Jack seemed able to see into his thoughts, but Jack's were impossible for him to discern.

….

Diana's prediction came true. There was another scenes. Nathan and Angelica argued downstairs, and then once they realized they agreed, they went upstairs to, in Nathan's words, "talk sense into Cal." They needn't have bothered. All they managed to do was send Angelica to bed with a sick headache and nearly bring Jack to violence. Cal approved; he was only sorry he couldn't be the one.

It started well enough, with pleas and logic, but soon voices were raised, and Angelica declared she couldn't take any more. "Do you see what's happening?" Nathan said. "Your poor mother is hysterical."

"Mother is fine," Cal replied.

"You-" Nathan began.

"I'm afraid I must ask you to leave," Rose said. "What Cal needs right now is rest and quiet. I'm sure you'll agree his recovery is more important than anything else."

Nathan gave her a hard look. "Young woman, your opinion is of no value here. If anyone is going to leave, it will be you."

"Do as she says," Cal said. His head ached. The burst of energy he'd had that morning was wearing off, and he felt sleep drawing near. Talking this much-and this forcefully-was a strain. He couldn't hide it much longer. Jack stood next to Rose, and Cal almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. His family, bitterly opposed to a marriage they'd once approved of so strongly, Rose determined to stay with him, and Jack, the man she loved first-and most?-waiting to protect her, invisible to everyone but him. _And once because I'm dying_ , Cal thought.

"I don't know how you bewitched my son into marrying you," Nathan said. "And I'm not sure this is valid, no matter how many papers I see."

"Fortunately, the law doesn't change based on your opinions," Rose said. She looked into his dark eyes. They were so much like Cal's. "Whether you agree or not, Cal and I are married, and as his wife. I'm telling you to leave this room."

"We'll see about this," Nathan said coldly. "My son is ill and not in his right mind, and for all we know _you're_ the cause. He wasn't good enough for you before. What changed? Decided you needed his money after all?" He stepped closer to Rose. She didn't move. "If you think," he went on. "You'll get _anything-"_

"That's enough!" Cal yelled. The room swam. Jack stood between Rose and Nathan, ready to shove him back. Cal's head fell onto the pillow, his breathing shallow.

"Cal!" Rose cried. She lifted him in her arms. "Öffne deine Augen. Schau mich an," she begged. _Open your eyes. Look at me._ She stroked his cheek. "Bitte lieber?" _Please dear?_

His eyes fluttered open. "Liebling."

"Ich bin da." _I'm here_.

Rose looked at Nathan and Angelica over her shoulder. "I believe you've been asked to leave." No sooner had she said it than Jack pressed the air toward them. It closed around them until they retreated into the hall. The door slammed closed behind them.

"Thank you," Cal said.

"If he'd touched her…." Jack said. Cal replied with his eyes.

"For what?" Rose said.

"Not abandoning me," Cal said.

"You don't think I'd do that, do you?"

"I know what my parents are capable of," he said. "Especially my father. I learned from him….in some ways, he's worse than I was. Colder, you might say."

"He doesn't scare me," Rose said.

"Neither did I, at first."

"You don't anymore," she said. "You aren't the same man."

"Ich möchte glauben, dass," Cal said. _I want to believe that._ "So sehr ich an unsere gemeinsame Zukunft glauben möchte." _As much as I want to believe in our future together._

"Ich glaube, mein Lieber." _I believe, dear one._ She kissed his hand. "You'll be fine. Wait and see."

"If my father-"

"Don't worry about him," Rose said. "Just rest."

"I won't let him hurt her," Jack promised.

…

"This is preposterous!" Beatrice cried. "What is he thinking?" She put a comforting hand on Angelica's shoulder. "You poor dear. I can only imagine how trying this must be."

"I thought he'd outgrown this sort of behavior," Angelica said. "There was that awful business all those years ago, but he was so young then. We assumed it was a childish whim. He adjusted well enough once it was over."

"What do you intend to do?" Beatrice asked.

"What _can_ we do? She's here. He married her, somehow. Anything we do will once cause a scandal," Angelica said.

"We can't sit by and pretend it isn't happening," Nathan said. "Or that we approve."

"Nathan, you don't intend-" Angelica began.

"I don't know exactly _what_ I intend. Yet," he said. "I agree, we can't simply throw the girl out of the house. We can't have her going to the newspapers with her story either. And after all," he went on. "There's Caledon to consider. As foolish as it may be, he's clearly quite attached to her. If we separate them now, it may cause him to get worse."

"We can't have that," Diana said. "He's only starting to recover."

"Diana, I trust you'll be discreet about what's going on," Nathan said. "And about what you hear. This is all to remain within the family."

"Of course," Diana said. "I'll do anything to help."

Nathan smiled fondly at her. "I always regretted my son couldn't marry you."

"It's been done before," Diana pointed out."

"In the past, maybe," he said.

"Old fashions come back sometimes," Diana replied lightly. A soft chuckle moved through the group, but beneath lurked her smile lurked a deadly seriousness only Jack saw.

…

"Rose?" Cal looked around. The room was empty. The other side of the bed was neatly made. The whole room was neat, freshly cleaned, in fact. The shades were up, the windows cracked. Golden light spilled across the floor. A fire blazed cheerfully. A glass of water sat on the bedside table. Cal looked at it warily.

"It's fine to drink," Jack said. "Rose poured it. She filled the pitcher herself."

"Where did you come from? And where is she?"

"She's downstairs, making your breakfast," Jack replied. He perched on the table. "And I came from the family meeting going on in the study."

"Discussing us, are they?" Cal said, slightly amused. "Do they have a plan yet?"

"Doesn't sound like it. Your father's determined to do something though," Jack said. "Your mother's still upset, but I think you could get her to come around."

"Mother was always fond of me."

"You say that so causally," Jack said. "Like it doesn't mean anything she's your mother,."

"Of course it means something. I'm fond of her. We just aren't close or overly affectionate."

"Or at all," Jack said.

"Are you passing judgment on my family?" Cal asked.

"No," Jack replied, shaking his head. "I just think I understand you a lot better now."

"I wasn't shown enough love, is that it?"

"Something like that," Jack said. "More like you were shown the wrong kind of love. The wrong way of expressing it. It seems like your parents show they care by planning your life for you, trying to control you. Maybe because they're afraid."

"Of what?" Cal said.

"Losing you. Or of how much they feel. Loving someone's scary. At least, it can be."

"It wasn't for you," Cal said.

Jack grinned. "I'm gifted. It's my artistic soul."

"Of course. How could I forget?" Cal said drily.

"You really are looking better. It's amazing what a couple of days of not drinking poison can do for a guy."

"But I can still see you," Cal reminded him.

…..

Rose smoothed the blanket. "Are you sure you-"

"I don't need anything," Cal said. "The lunch you brought up was enough for two people. I couldn't possibly be more comfortable." He reached out and caught her hand. "Just sit here with me, liebling?"

She smiled. "Of course."

"I didn't know you had such a nurse-like side to you," he said.

"I'm hardly a nurse."

"You're the best nurse I've ever had," he said. "I doubt I'd still be alive if not for you."

"Don't talk like that."

"Rose-"

"Bitte." _Please_

"Ich will nicht," he said. _I won't_. "Es tut mir Leid." _I'm sorry._

"I'd rather talk about our future." Rose said.

"You have plans then?"

"A few perhaps," she said.

"Sag mir," he said. _Tell me_. "Und wir werden es tun." _And we'll do it._


	19. Chapter 19

He wanted to hold her. Rose slept next to him, her back against his chest. Cal's arm was draped across her, but it was weak, nothing like the way he usually held her. Most nights he wrapped both arms around her, lifting her against him. He was like a shield keeping her warm and making it safe for her to sleep. Cal couldn't do any of that now. He might as well not even be there.

"Don't think like that."

Jack's voice startled him. Cal squinted up at him. "You watch us sleep?" he said.

"No, not really," Jack replied. "I just thought…I dunno, something might happen."

"I'm _dying,_ " Cal reminded him. "I'm hardly-"

"Not _that_ ," Jack said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "I don't watch that."

"I should hope not." Cal paused. "What do you do? Where do you go?"

"Just…away. Outside. The other room's not far enough."

"You broke the glasses that night, didn't you?" Cal said.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Jack gave him a pitying look. "Why do you think?"

…

"You have to see the doctor again," Rose said. "I can't keep taking care of you by myself."

"Why not?" Cal said. "You seem to be doing an excellent job." He took a sip of his tea and made a face. "Can't I have some coffee, please?"

"Not yet. You need nourishing things right now. And don't change the subject."

"I don't see why I need a doctor," he grumbled. "I'm getting better. Didn't you say that last night?"

"I did say that, but I'm not an expert. My opinion only has so much value in matters like that. Cal, this is for your own good," she said. "I'm calling him, with or without your agreement."

"You sound like my mother."

"In this case, I don't mind," she replied. "I think we would both agree we don't want you to die."

"You might be the only ones," he said.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Cal said. "Fine. If you want me to see a doctor, I will."

"I didn't expect you to give in so easily. What are you planning?"

"Why do you think I'm planning something?" he said. "I'm not fighting you because I don't want you to worry. Liebling, I don't think I need anything but you."

"And not to be poisoned," Jack said.

Cal ignored him. "You've taken excellent care of me, Rose. I couldn't ask for anyone better."

"I've done my best," Rose said. She brushed back his hair. "But it isn't enough. I'll call him."

…..

Stevenson put the stethoscope against Cal's chest. "Breathe in," he said, moving it down to his ribs. "And out. Very good.'

Rose stood across the room, watching. Jack was next to her. His arms encircled her. His cheek rested against her curls. "He'll be alright," Jack said reassuringly. Hope spread through her, and she pressed her hand over his without realizing. Cal looked at them, but Jack didn't move. He didn't acknowledge him at all. He smelled her perfume, and the clean, flowery scent of her hair. If he tried, he could almost convince himself he was really holding her; his arms were sold, and she felt him there. It was only the two of them. Those were dangerous thoughts, but Jack didn't care. Sometimes he needed them.

"Your breathing is good," Stevenson said. "Your heart rate is good. Eyes are a bit dull. Temperature's a few degrees up, but it isn't anything to worry about."

"What's wrong with me?" Cal asked.

"Well, I can't say exactly," Stevenson answered. "It's peculiar. There doesn't seem to be anything wrong, at least, not anymore. At this point I'd say you're suffering the effects of a very serious illness. Your body is struggling to recover, and you're still weak.'

"But what caused it?" Rose asked. "What was the illness? And why has it let go so easily?"

"Did you take the tonics I left last time?" Stevenson asked.

"I took everything," Cal said. "Rose made sure of it."

"And you've been drinking plenty of water? Eating? Getting enough sleep?" Stevenson said.

"Yes, of course," Rose said. "I've done everything I can think of."

"And the iron pills, you've taken those?"

"Yes," Cal said impatiently.

"Then perhaps it was just one of those mysterious of the body," Stevenson said. "And we caught it in time. I want to caution you against overexerting yourself, though. Too much stress could bring it back on."

"Are you telling me you still don't know what's wrong with me?" Cal said. "I'm supposed to accept that? I nearly _died_! And there's no explanation?"

"I'm sorry," Stevenson said. "Your symptoms weren't consistent with any one illness. Despite their severity, I'm really not sure of their cause. We could do some more tests-"

Cal waved his hand. "No, no," he said. "I don't want that."

"Then just be grateful for your recovery," Stevenson said. "And be cautious in the future."

"So, it may happen again?" Rose said. "If we don't know the cause, we don't know how to prevent it from happening again."

"Right," Stevenson said. "Of course if it does, and I hope it doesn't, we may have more to go on."

"We know what caused it," Jack said.

"We know what got rid of it," Cal said. At the same time they both said, "Rose got rid of it."

…..

"Do you really think taking that concoction will do any good?" Cal said.

"It can't hurt," Rose said. She poured the medicine into a spoon. "Please take it?"

He grimaced as he swallowed the foul liquid. "Stevenson doesn't know what he's talking about," he said. "I can't believe I'm paying him a small fortune to tell me nothing.'

"Do you want to consult someone else?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Why bother?"

"Because your health is important," Rose said. "I don't like this explanation, or rather, lack of one, either. Calling it a mystery is too easy. There has to be a _real_ cause, one that can be found and understood."

"Maybe there isn't."

"Don't say that," she said.

"Why not?"

"It sounds too much like giving up," she said. "Cal, I want you to promise me you won't do that. Promise you'll never do that."

Cal looked into her eyes. "Ich werde nicht, liebling. Ich verspreche, dass ich nicht aufgeben werde." _I won't, darling. I promise I won't give up._

He wasn't entirely sure he hadn't given up already. It was hard to believe he was going to live, no matter what anyone said, no matter how he felt. Rose had only been there a few days, and already he felt tethered to the world again. He felt stronger. Little things weren't such a strain anymore. But he was still weak. He could sit up in bed and talk now, but he still grew tired easily. He had trouble walking on his own. He couldn't make a fist. He got dizzy without warning and had to lie down. Sometimes when he fell asleep it felt too heavy, like he was sinking into the darkness, never to come up again. There were plenty of reasons to be hopeful, but Cal wasn't certain any of them were enough. He would never have told Rose that.

She kissed him. "Ich werde dich niemals aufgeben, mein Lieber," she said. _I'll never give up on you dear._ "Denken Sie daran, die Pläne, die wir gemacht haben." _Remember the plans we made._

"Ich werde es nicht vergessen." _I won't forget._

….

They weren't the only ones remembering their plans. Back in New York Robert was stopping by Frank's office. It was really Cal's, but with him gone, Frank had taken over, moving Cal's things to an unused bottom drawer and replacing them with his own. He hadn't been in there long, but already it felt like his office. His desk. His chair. All of which were much better than any he'd ever had before. He was leaning back in the chair, feet crossed on the desk when Robert appeared.

"Getting comfortable, I see," Robert said.

"Why not? It's a nice room."

"Shame you'll have to give it up," Robert said.

"I don't mind. It's Cal's office. It's his job. And what's the alternative?" Frank said. "His death?"

"You have a point. Still, I'd hate to give it up and so soon too. It seems like a waste of time and talent."

"I don't know about the talent," Frank said. "And Cal hasn't quite recovered yet."

"Hasn't he? I thought I heard someone saying he would be back in a few days."

"Who was talking about it?" Frank said. "No-one's supposed to know."

Robert shrugged. "Just some of the girls downstairs. I wouldn't worry about it."

"No-one's supposed to know," Frank said again. "I wonder how it got out."

"Things always get out," Robert said. "There's no reason for anyone to care if he's not here. You're doing a fine job."

"I'm keeping things together," Frank said.

"Are you kidding? You've doing a better job than your cousin ever did. Unlike him, you're actually here every day."

"Cal was here every day," Frank said. "He's dedicated to the business."

"Not from what I've heard," Robert said. "Not lately, anyway. You know, maybe you should consider keeping this position."

"I couldn't do that. Even if I wanted to, Cal wouldn't hear of it. I'm not officially taking his place as it is."

"Who says Cal gets to decide everything?" Robert replied.

No-one really, except Cal always had. He was the undisputed leader of the family, the prince, the heir to his father's empire, and he answered only to Nathan. It had always been that way. Frank didn't usually mind or even think about it too much, but Robert's words touched a nerve. Since marrying Edith he'd begun to resent his lowly status. Sure, he was on the Hockley family tree, and the rich side at that. Unlike Michael and Edith he'd always had the benefits of their name. But compared to Cal he was second-tier, and everyone knew it.

What was there to be done about it? Could he in fact usurp Cal's positon? Take his role and the power that came with it? It was a ridiculous notion, and yet a not unappealing one.

….

He wanted to touch her. She was so close. He heard her breathing in the dark. The fire had burned down, leaving only a soft glow. They hadn't been disturbed since the awful scene with Nathan and Angelica. Rose ventured down to the kitchen. She prepared their food, much to the cook's chagrin and reluctant interest. Who was this strange girl? Didn't she know her place? As if only her hands were good enough to prepare their food; as if she, Nancy, couldn't be trusted to do it.

But Rose was friendly, and she smiled sweetly, so Nancy couldn't hate her.

Rose cleaned the room herself. She administered the medicines, threatening another visit from the doctor when Cal balked. She drew baths and helped him into them. She fell asleep each night happy to be near him, worried, but sure everything would work out in the end.

She was so close. She was so far away. He just wanted to touch her; he wanted to feel her body against his, her skin, smooth and warm, her kisses ravenous and full of need, but loving and as sweet as her smile.

These could have been Cal's thoughts, or they could have been Jack's. In fact, they were both, with minor adjustments. Cal thought longingly of the last time he and Rose made love. It felt like years had passed since then. He missed her. He missed being that close to her; he missed those moments when only they existed, and nothing could touch them, and he was safe, so safe, in her arms; there was no need to pretend or intimidate, no pretenses, nothing but Rose, and Cal loved her so much.

Jack had only one such memory to draw from. His memories of Rose were limited-the years since his death didn't count in his opinion—and that particular memory almost made him feel worse. If he'd known it was all they'd have, he would have given more of himself. Tried harder. Made it last longer. He'd given all of himself—freely, joyfully, but still, there had to be more he could have done. At the bottom of his thoughts, barely acknowledged, was this one: _I could have stayed alive._

…..

The sun was just beginning to rise; the world was blue. Outside, life was starting up again, but inside, the house was still asleep. Mostly.

Diana crept down the back stairs and into the kitchen. Her hand was in her robe pocket; the vial was cold and oddly reassuring. She looked around for somewhere to put its contents. She couldn't take a chance on poisoning everyone, especially not herself, but with Rose handling all of Cal's meals, her changes were greatly diminished. Her heart sped up when she saw the tray. It was empty, save for a sugar bowl. That was just perfect, wasn't it? Who would ever notice? Quickly, Diana emptied the vial into the bowl. She stirred the fine, white powder into the sugar and replaced the lid. With any luck, Rose would use it as well. They still hadn't solved the problem of the will—if in fact, their suspicions were correct—but with Rose out of the way, that wouldn't be an issue.

And getting rid of her would be a favor to everyone. Cal would be missed, and really, it was a shame things had to be this way, but it was his own fault. If he'd only been more cooperative over the years.

…

He woke into the blue dawn. Rose's head rested on his arm; she was curled into him. Theirs legs were tangled, arms crossed, and his hand was on her bare back. She wore his shirt, the other half of his pajamas, and it was pushed up. Her belly pressed against his. Cal had never wanted her more than he did at that moment.

He kissed her cheek, then her jaw, before brushing his lips across hers. Rose sighed and held him tighter. He nuzzled her neck. "Rose," he whispered longingly. "Meine liebling, Rose."

"Cal?"

"Mm-hmm." He kissed her neck.

"If you're trying to wake me up, you picked a rather interesting way," she said.

"Did I?" His hand found the buttons on her shirt as he kissed her. She made a small sound in the back of her throat. He couldn't help grinning. "Ich habe diesen Klang verpasst," he said. _I've missed that sound._ His hand moved over her slowly. "Ich habe dich vermisst." _I've missed you._ '

"I've missed you too."

Rose wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. It felt so good to hold him and kiss him and know he was there, really truly, there with her. He felt so alive. It was hard to remember being afraid of losing him. His lips moved down her throat, catching up with his hands. She twisted her fingers in his hair. "Cal." She could hardly speak. Soft pleasure sounds filled her throat.

Dimly, Cal sensed he didn't have the strength to continue. The adrenaline that sent him this far was fading, but his body was at war with itself. One side insisted he must stop; he must be reasonable, and do back to sleep, while the other insisted that would be the worst mistake he would ever make. If he didn't make love to her now, he might never get another chance.

Rose felt so good in his hands, beneath his mouth. He murmured into her skin, a combination of German and English only they understood. Cal looked into her eyes, one hand cupping her cheek. " Ich will dich, Rose," he said. _I want you, Rose._

"Can you?" she asked. "Is it too soon?"

He kissed her and took her hand, guiding it down. Her fingers closed around him, and he kissed her with a new urgency.

"What if you get worse?" Rose breathed.

"I won't," Cal promised.

...

Rose hummed as she buttered the toast. Nancy pretended not to notice her. It wasn't easy this morning. Rose always stayed out of her way, but her happiness radiated like warm light.

"What's got you so chipper?" Abby asked. She was assemblying the breakfast dishes for the family.

"Oh, nothing," Rose said.

"Don't lie," Abby said. "I can see it in your face."

A slight blush covered Rose's cheeks. "It's nothing, really," she insisted. "Cal is feeling much better. That's all."

"Is he now?" Abby teased. Nancy shot her a look. She'd told her not to be so familiar with Rose. She was down in the kitchen with them, but she wasn't one of them. They'd do well to remember that. "Her husband isn't one to trifle with," Nancy warned.

But Abby was new and hadn't witnessed the Cal of the past. She didn't believe any of the stories. How could she? With a wife like Rose, she reasoned, he couldn't possibly be that bad.

"Do you need this?" Rose asked, holding up the sugar bowl.

Abby shook her head. "I already put one on the table."

"I don't normally put sugar in my tea," Rose siad. "Cal likes it, but I think I'll take him coffee this morning. He's been asking for it." She left the bowl on the tray. Maybe this morning she'd have some.

...

Jack missed Diana's trip to the kitchen because he was on the roof avoiding the scene unfolding below. His mind was too full to sense danger. Only a direct, immediate threat to Rose would have gotten through.

By the time he came back down breakfast was over, and most of the dishes had been cleared away. Cal sat next to the window, sipping his second cup of coffee. There was a teacup on the table, empty except for the leaves at the bottom. There was a tray on the table, with a coffee urn, a tea pot, and the sugar bowl. The bathroom door was closed, and Jack heard water running. "She's taking a bath," Jack said.

"I figured."

"You seem upset," Cal said.

"You seem better," Jack said.

"I'm getting there. I'm probably not as well as I think."

"But you aren't dying," Jack said.

"I'm not convinced of that."

"You'd know if you were," Jack said. "Believe me."

"I know how I felt when all this started," Cal said.

"Why won't you just admit you're going to have a life?" Jack said impatiently.

"You're upset I'm going to live, aren't you?" Cal said. "You're jealous."

"I'm annoyed you aren't valuing your life more," Jack said. "Don't you see how lucky you are? You get another second chance. You got Rose back. That's more than most people ever get, and you're still rich and powerful. Your life is what most people dream of."

"You mean it's more than you got. It's what you dream of."

"I didn't say that," Jack replied. He turned toward the table. "She's taking care of your food like I asked."

"She's prepared everything herself."

"Good," Jack said. "You should be safe then."

"You don't have any idea who's behind this?" Cal asked.

"Well, obviously it's someone close to you, with access to the house."

"That's not many people," Cal said.

Jack did know more, not much, but he kept it to himself. He'd done enough for Cal. This was something he could solve for himself. The word of a ghost wouldn't convince anyone else anyway. Jack picked up the teacup. He swirled the leaves around.

"Going to tell your future?" Cal said.

"I don't have one, and it'd be Rose's," Jack replied. "She drank the tea." He studied the leaves but couldn't make out any shapes. He never believed in fortune telling anyway. There was something there, though he couldn't be certain what it was. It had a familiar sparkle. He stirred the leaves with his finger.

"What are you doing?" Cal asked.

"Did Rose make the tea herself?"

"I assume so. Why?" Cal said.

Jack didn't answer. He dropped the teacup on the table as Rose came out of the bathrom.


	20. Chapter 20

The teacup hit the table with a loud _clang_. It bounded gently before coming to a stop. Rose stared at it. "What happened there?" she said.

"Probably wind," Cal said. He quickly shut the window to emphasize the possibility. "I had the window open too high, I guess."

"I didn't feel anything."

"I did," he said. "So, did you enjoy your bath?"

Rose was still watching the cup. "Yes, it was refreshing. I can run one for you, if you'd like."

"Maybe in a little while."

"I'll get dressed and take these dishes downstairs," she said.

"You can ring for someone to do that."

"No, I can do it," she said. "I don't mind. There's no reason not to."

"I think the household staff is a good reason not to," Cal said. "I do pay them for that sort of thing. Do you want to waste that money?"

"It's a bit of a waste already. We don't need twelve people running around picking up after us."

"But it gives those people jobs," he argued. "They might not have one otherwise."

"Or they might be doing something better, making more money, or at least they could be doing more meaningful work," Rose said. "Don't pretend you're interested in their well-being, dear. I know you aren't."

"I'm not completely indifferent to it. I pay them well. They have plenty of leisure time. The work isn't difficult. I don't treat them badly."

"That may be true, but would you like to do it?" she asked.

"No, but-"

"Then why should you ask someone else to?" she said.

"But liebling, someone has to," he said.

"Some jobs, yes, and we should treat them with the respect they deserve, but no-one _needs_ five house maids and a butler." She picked up the breakfast tray. "Why are we talking about this?"

"I don't know." Cal laughed.

"Well, you certainly sound like your old self," Rose said. "Your healthy self," she added for clarification.

"I'm glad to hear that."

"So am I," she said with a smile. "Maybe—No."

"What is it?"

"I was going to suggest going for a walk later," she said. "A short one. Getting out in the fresh air may do you good."

"I'd like that."

"Would you? Do you feel up to it?" she asked.

"I feel good, Rose," Cal said. "I'm not back to normal completely, but I feel much stronger. You don't have to worry anymore, Liebling. I'm not going anywhere."

"You'd better not. I'd hate to have to chase you down again," she said.

"I've no doubt you could manage it."

When she was gone Jack said, "You really feel better? You don't feel anything unusual?"

"No. What was in that cup?"

"I think it was poison," Jack answered.

"Are you serious?" Concern filled Cal's eyes. "But how? No-one touches our food, aside from Rose."

"Someone must've," Jack said. His frown was etched into his face. 'They had to be in the house. I didn't see anything like this before, but I stopped looking."

"Why did you stop?" Cal demanded. "You knew it could happen again!"

"This isn't my fault," Jack snapped. "You're the one with people trying to kill you. I've done nothing but try to help. I got Rose here for you. You didn't even know you were being poisoned until I told you! You were just gonna lay there and die!" Cal stared at him, shocked by his outburst. Jack's blue eyes blazed with anger. "If I were you-" Jack closed his mouth and shook his head. "I'm only helping you for Rose," he said quietly. "She can't bear the thought of losing you, and if I can spare her that pain, I will. You make her happy. I don't know why. I don't really like it, but you do. She deserves that."

"Jack-"

Jack held up a hand. "Don't, alright? We're not meant to be friends."

"Aren't we friends?" Cal said.

"Is that what you think?"

Cal shrugged. "I guess I'd call it that."

"Huh. Maybe," Jack said.

"I shouldn't have blamed you," Cal said. "You're right. You've done nothing but help. I'd probably be dead if not for you, and I wouldn't have gotten to see Rose again." Cal looked down at his hands. "So….Thank you. For everything."

"You're welcome," Jack said. "We need to figure out where the poison came from."

"It was in the tea."

"Maybe not," Jack said. "It coulda been in the sugar. Did she drink it with sugar?"

"Yes, actually."

"Did you use any?" Jack asked.

Cal shook his head. "No."

"We need that sugar bowl," Jack said. "You'll have to get it."

"Why me?"

Jack gave him a look. "I can't do everything."

….

Cal took a step, bringing his foot down hard. His shoes made a satisfying _clack_ on the wood floor. "I almost forgot what shoes feel like," he laughed. He stretched out his arms, feeling the fabric pull taut. "And real clothes," he added. After all that time in pajamas, day clothes felt stiff and binding. He liked being in them anyway.

"It's nice to see you in clothes again," Rose said.

His voice held a suggestive lilt. "Is it?"

"You know what I mean. I'm glad you're feeling so much better," she said. "Are you sure you're up for this?"

"Absolutely certain." He gave her a light kiss. "Let's go."

They met Angelica at the bottom of the stairs. She stared at them, her surprise evident. "Caledon, what are you doing out of bed?"

"We're going for a walk," Cal replied cheerfully. His arm was linked with Rose's.

"You must be joking," Angelica said. She fixed her gaze on Rose. "You can't possibly have the strength for that."

"I assure you, I do," he said. "And I think being out in the fresh air will be good for me."

"That's what windows are for," Angelica sniffed. "This was _your_ idea, wasn't it?" she said to Rose.

"As a matter of fact, it was. Cal's shown a lot of improvement," Rose said politely. "I think getting out of bed a little more will help him. He can't just lie there and let his muscles atrophy. He needs exercise."

"And you know best, don't you?" Angelica said coolly.

"Mother-"

"I wouldn't presume such a thing," Rose said in her same polite tone. "I only want what's best for Cal. I'd hope we can agree that we both do."

"You didn't want that when you left him," Angelica replied. "What, exactly, changed your mind? You've never said."

"This is uncalled for," Cal said. His voice was low and even. "You don't have to agree with my decision to marry Rose, but at the very least I expect you to treat her with the same courtesy anyone else. She's my wife, and this is my house," he added. "I appreciate your concern, everyone's concern, while I've been ill, but perhaps it's time you left. It's not as if you live far away. We can manage on our own."

Angelica's mouth opened and closed. Her jaw tightened. "Well," she said. "I see."

"I'm sorry, but I think that would be best," he said. "Please, don't misunderstand-"

"No, I understand perfectly," Angelica said. "You'd rather have her here than your own family. I'll inform your father at once."

"Rose is my family too," Cal said.

"We'll see about that," Angelica replied. "We'll just see how long she stays with you this time."

Rose gripped Cal's arm tightly, her knuckles white around his coat. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line. Keeping her mouth closed as the only way to remain quiet. Jack's lips brushed her ear. "Ignore her," he whispered. "You're wonderful, Rose. Cal loves you. Don't listen to anything she says."

Rose let out a heavy breath. Jack kissed her cheek. He felt tension radiating from her; all trace of her former mood had vanished. "Don't let her upset you," he whispered. "She wants you to have doubts. Remember how they treated you? You're me now. I didn't give up, did I? You can't either."

"Komm schon, Liebes," Rose said. _Come on, dear._ "Zwar gibt es noch viel Licht." _While there's still plenty of light._

Cal nodded. Angelica stared after them as they went. What was going on? Her whole world was changing before her eyes. What could make Cal so loyal to this girl? This common, cheap girl with no family, no connections, who'd been who knows where and done who knows what?

…..

They walked at a leisurely pace. Rose relaxed her grip on Cal's arm. His free hand covered hers. Pain filled the space behind his eyes. He recognized the onset of one of his headaches but hoped it wouldn't devour him. That was the last thing he needed.

Rose was on the verge of trembling. Her body kept tensing. She couldn't make it stop. She never expected to be so affected by an exchange with Cal's family, but somehow it happened. It wasn't so much the thought of being hated by them she minded; she could handle that. It was what their disappointment might do to Cal. She couldn't help fearing it would drive him away eventually, and if they had children, would they also be scorned? In some ways it was like she'd married Jack after all. Once again, she wondered if he'd felt the way she did now.

"I'm sorry, Rose," Cal said.

"You don't have to apologize."

"No, I do," he said. "That shouldn't have happened. I shouldn't have let it happen."

"How were you going to stop her?" Rose asked.

"I didn't have to let them keep staying in the house after you arrived. They only live a few miles away. There was no reason for them to stay."

"They were worried about you," she said. "I understand that."

"It's no excuse for treating you badly."

"I don't exactly enjoy their attitude toward me," she replied. "But I won't ask you to cut your family out of your life."

"You don't have to ask," Cal said, matter-of-factly. "If that's how they intend to behave toward you, I don't want them in our lives. Or our children's," he added.

Rose looked at him. "Our children?"

"Well, yes," he said. "We'll have them at some point, won't we? I assumed you wanted them."

"I do," Rose said. "We just haven't really discussed it. I wasn't sure how you felt."

He smiled. "I want them. Not right now, but yes, liebling, I want children with you."

"They'll have the things we didn't have," she said. "Affection. Freedom. We'll let them make their own choices."

"Of course, liebling. I can't pretend I'm not glad to have been brought up among wealth and privilege," he said. "But I also wonder what might've happened if my parents had been a bit more, shall we say, understanding."

"You might have married Cassandra. You wouldn't even know me."

There was a long pause before Cal said, "I'm not sure I would've felt so strongly about her had I been allowed to. She was forbidden. What person who's always been allowed anything can resist that?"

"I think you did love her," Rose said.

"Not enough," he replied. "It wasn't like this. I don't want you because I can't have you."

"You do have me. You married me."

"While my entire family protests," he said. "And wonders about my sanity. If they thought they could make you leave, they would try anything."

"I'm not leaving, Cal."

He squeezed her hand. "Ich kenne." _I know_.

Rose grinned. "Wir haben unsere eigene Sprache." _We have our own language_.

"I suppose we do. I like it. I feel closer to you," Cal said. "We have this way of communicating and no-one else can get involved."

"It's like having our own world."

"There's an idea," he said.

"You'd want that?" she said.

"Sometimes."

….

Jack roamed the house in search of evidence. He said he wasn't going to solve the mystery for Cal, but things were different now. Rose was involved. Somehow, he hadn't believed they would target her. Not like this. He knew Cal's family wanted her out of the way, and whoever was trying to get rid of Cal probably did as well. But to kill her? What could they gain from that? She had nothing they'd want. With Cal gone, there'd be no reason for Rose to stay. Unless they were worried she wouldn't let the matter drop.

Nathan was in Cal's study. He sat at the desk. Papers were everywhere. He held a file. As he read he shook his head, and his frown deepened. "This is preposterous," he said. "A waste of money all around. What was he thinking?"

Jack read the document; it pertained to the buildings Cal bought for Rose. He hadn't paid much for them, but the renovations drove the cost up. "Why bother?" Nathan said. "They won't know the difference."

Jack glared at him. "How would you know?" he asked.

"And all just to give it to her," Nathan said, closing the file. "She's a clever one. It's more than her type usually gets." He reached for another file as Jack pushed his chair back. His hand smacked the table. Nathan looked around suspiciously. "Is someone there?"

Silence. Jack shoved the papers from the desk as he left.

…..

Angelica was upstairs in her room, bemoaning her fate to Beatrice, while her maid, Florence packed. Technically, it was a guest room, but Angelica had taken it over after Cal's collapse and now considered it hers. From looking at it, no-one would ever know she didn't actually live there. Florence packed slowly. She kept silent, her attention seemingly focused on her task, but she heard every word.

"What have we done to deserve this?" Angelica wailed. "Haven't we always given him everything?"

"Perhaps that's the problem," Beatrice suggested.

"No, that can't be it. He knows there are limits. Caledon has always understood his position," Angelica said. "He's never wanted to shirk his responsibilities, not like some children."

"She did," Beatrice pointed out. "Maybe she's influencing him."

"It's obvious she's influencing him. I thought he was stronger than this," Angelica said. "I thought he'd grown out of it. And after what she did?"

"You don't know how long this has been going on. You only just found out. They may have been engaging in this affair for years."

"Don't say that," Angelica ordered. She collapsed onto the settee. "That makes it even harder to bear."

"It's a possibility," Beatrice argued. "And it would explain the haste of their marriage."

"You don't think-"

"It's not unheard of," Beatrice said. "And you know how men are. Remember what George got up to?"

"I can't say Nathan hasn't indulged in his share of indiscretions," Angelica admitted. "But he's always kept them quiet. He's shown me that courtesy, at least."

"Either way, they're married. There's not much you can do."

"I know," Angelica said wearily. "I suppose we'll go home."

"You don't think he'll change his mind?" Beatrice said.

"No. He only listens to her now."

Annoyed, Jack left. Neither of those two were involved in the poisoning. He was sure of that.

….

Jack was waiting when they came home. Cal's cheeks were pale, and he walked slowly. Rose kept a hand on his arm, steadying him. "I told you we shouldn't go that far," she said.

"I'm fine," he insisted.

"Sir down." She steered him toward a chair in the sitting room. "You don't need to go up the stairs yet."

"Well, it's nice being out of our room." He grinned.

"That doesn't change the fact you overexerted yourself today," Rose said. She pushed back his hair. "Cal, you can't do this."

"I liked being out there," he said. "I liked being on my feet. I didn't want to admit when I couldn't handle it."

"I understand. All I'm asking is for you to be more careful. This may be a long recovery."

"I hope not." Cal sighed.

"It's almost time for lunch," she said. "Why don't I make us something, and we can eat down here? It would be a change."

"Not in the dining room?"

"No," she said. "I was thinking in here."

"Alright," Cal said. 'But we might see them."

"I'm not worried about that. There's nothing new they can say, and what harm are words at this point? I nearly lost you. Nothing they say will make me leave."

"Rose, liebling, it could be more than words," he said. "I wasn't one for talking in these types of situations, was I?"

"You don't have to warn me," Rose said. "I knew what I was getting into." She kissed him. "Rest while I get lunch."

"I hope so," he said, as she walked away. Cal wanted to warn her about the poison, but how could he explain knowing about it?

…..

Lunch was almost over when Rose entered the kitchen. Nancy glanced at her. "Please don't mind me," Rose said. "I'll stay out of your way." Nancy didn't respond. Rose set about preparing a small lunch for the two of them. Jack watched, keeping an eye out for anything unusual. He spotted the sugar bowl and moved toward it. He stopped, his hand around it. What could he do? Dump it on the floor while the two of them watched? And if he did that the evidence would be lost. Instead he slowly pushed it behind the bread box. Cal could retrieve it later.

….

"He's ordered everyone out of the house," Diana said. She glanced over her shoulder. The room was empty and the door closed. She clutched the phone. "Do you understand what that means?"

"How can you be sure?" Robert asked.

"My mother received a call from Aunt Angelica. It happened this morning. He wants them hone. She said they're leaving today."

"That complicates things."

"Is that all you can say?" she hissed. "Without me there, we'll have no way of-"

"What about the butler, Marcus?" he asked. "I spoke with him last time, remember? He seemed rather amenable to helping us."

"You didn't tell him the plan, did you?"

"No, of course not," Robert said. "I merely assessed the situation. Look, Diana, calm down. We can still succeed. I've arranged to come down there for a few days. We can figure out where to go next when I get there."

"Alright," she said. "How are things going up on your end?"

"Splendidly. Frank is getting more comfortable in his new role, and from what I've seen, Edith isn't unhappy with it either. Her brother is a bit skeptical-"

"He doesn't matter," Diana said dismissively.

"That's what I thought," Robert said. "Do what you can, and I'll be there the day after tomorrow." 


	21. Chapter 21

Cal crept down the back stairs and into the kitchen. The house was dark. He had to feel his way. He held his breath for fear of being discovered. It was ridiculous. It was his house. What was there to be afraid of? He could do as he pleased. Still, he didn't want anyone to know what he was up to. He didn't know who he could trust, aside from Rose. His parents were probably sage, but after his last encounter with him, Cal wasn't so sure. If they weren't part of a plot before, they likely were now.

It began when Nathan was informed of his decision. "He wants us to _what?_ "

"To leave," Angelica said. "I already had our things packed."

"Where is this coming from?"

"Caledon," she said. "Where else?"

"I'm not so sure of that," he replied. He slammed the desk drawer shut. "This sounds like _her_ doing."

"No doubt it is, but what can we do?" Angelica sighed. "It's his house, and she's his wife."

"We don't have to accept this. There's plenty we can do." Nathan moved around the desk. "Come with me," he ordered. "We'll get this sorted out."

Angelica was only too grateful to follow him into the sitting room. Finally, some action was being taken. Cal might not listen to her, but he had never failed to obey his father. If anyone could sort out this mess, Nathan could.

They found Cal and Rose lounging on the sofa. His eyes were half-closed. Rose held a book and was reading aloud in a soft voice, German from the sound of it. They looked up as Nathan burst into the room. Cal raised his head. He glanced past Nathan, to Angelica, and back again. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"How can you have the audacity to ask us that?" Nathan said. "After throwing us out of this house so unceremoniously?"

"I didn't throw you out," Cal said. "I asked you to leave."

"Is there supposed to be a difference?"

"I didn't say to never come back," Cal replied mildly. He shifted so he was fully upright. Rose watched the exchange, her eyes on Nathan. "There's nothing more for you to do here," Cal went on.

"So, this is the thanks we get?" Angelica said.

"Mother, you know why I asked you to leave," Cal said. "I won't allow you to speak that way about my wife in our own home."

Nathan turned his gaze on Rose. She stiffened, lifting her chin. His eyes reminded her of Cal's. They had the same nose. The resemblance ended there. The way he looked now, he was more like the Cal of the past, fury bubbling up, sardonic smile, and hands itching to strike. It unnerved her more than she cared to admit.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cal saw Jack standing next to Rose, his hand on her shoulder. Jack's lips brushed her ear. "He can't hurt you," he whispered. "We won't let him, Rose." Jack looked at Cal for confirmation.

"I knew this had something to do with you," Nathan spat. His eyes narrowed. "Since the day you met my son, you've caused nothing but trouble. You've completely disrupted his life, _twice_ now, and we-his family—are expected to just accept-"

Cal was on his feet. "That's enough!"

"No." Rose stood up next to him. "No, I want to hear what he has to say." She looked into Nathan's eyes. "They can say whatever they like. I'm not leaving. I'm not easy to get rid of."

"Until someone else comes along," Angelica said.

Rose's mouth twitched; she seemed to be holding back a laugh. "Do you want me to admit it?" she said. "I left Cal six years ago, but not just to be with another man."

"Oh, there was more than one," Angelica scoffed.

"No," Rose said calmly. "There was only one. I loved him." Jack took her hand. Her eyes held a faraway look. "I lost him in that same moment," she went on. "I could've gone back to Cal, made it work." She glanced at Cal. He took her other hand. "And we both would have been miserable," she said. "I never thought I'd see him again. When I did, I hated him. I avoided him. The things we did to one another back then-" Rose shook her head. "I considered him unforgivable."

"Well, that certainly explains how you can to be married," Nathan said drily.

"We didn't plan this," Rose said. "It just happened. Somehow, we were able to forgive each other; we aren't the same people we were back then. The man I despised, he's gone." She offered Cal a small smile. He squeezed her hand. Angelica made a sound akin to a snort.

"People don't change," Nathan said. "You're both exactly the same as you ever were. I should've known you'd be foolish over a girl," he added, tossing Cal a disgusted look. "You always did let them lead you around. And _you_ -"

Cal and Jack stepped forward at the same time. They collided, and for a moment neither was sure what happened. Cal's eyes blinked. His head turned, and he looked at Rose. She eyed him with concern. "Cal, are you alright?"

"Me?" he said.

"Yes." She touched his arm.

"Of course he isn't," Nathan said. "He's ill. And worse off for listening to you."

Cal stared at him. The struggle going on inside his body was all but imperceptible. He frowned; his hands clenched. And then he gave a quick shrug, his features settling in place.

"Don't ever speak to her that way again." Cal's voice was even, but a threat lurked beneath his calm demeanor. "Otherwise, you may as well not come back. I'm alive because of Rose-" Nathan opened his mouth to interrupt. "I'm talking," Cal said sharply. "You've had quite enough to say already. Both of you. I don't want to hear any more."

"Caledon-"

"No." His dark eyes were like steel. "I think you should leave now." He reached back and found Rose's hand again. She gave him a curious look. There was a long silence before Nathan said, "Fine. If that's the way you feel."

"It is."

Cal pulled Rose closer as they left. His arm encircled her, resting on her hip. "Are you sure you're alright?" she asked.

"Absolutely. Don't I seem alright?"

"You-" She didn't know what to say. It was difficult to explain. There was something in his eyes, a kind of distance, as if his mind had gone away, leaving his body behind.

He kissed her. "I'm fine," he said reassuringly. He couldn't tell who was in control, him or Jack. After the initial struggle, they both seemed to exert some influence. Everything he'd said was something he intended to say. Jack hadn't changed that. But as he held Rose, Cal couldn't help wondering if this wasn't what Jack wanted. He searched his mind, but he couldn't find him. Was he gone?

That was hours ago. There was still no sign of Jack, though Cal assumed that's who woke him up and sent him down to the kitchen, hunting for the sugar bowl. In fact, Jack never left. He gave up the struggle, intending to leave Cal's body, but then something peculiar happened. He realized he could stay. All he had to do was stay in the back. If he just made himself small and quiet, Cal would never know he was there.

Jack felt everything Cal felt. He heard everything Cal thought. He looked out through his eyes. It was almost like being alive again. He couldn't give it up yet.

Cal found the sugar bowl easily. It was behind the bread box where Jack hid it. For a moment, he questioned how he knew before deciding Jack must have told him at some point. Possibly while he slept.

He hurried back upstairs. Cal took the bowl into the closet, burying it under a stack of shirts. Hiding it probably wasn't necessary, but he saw no need to take changes. In the morning, he'd deliver it to the proper authorities.

….

If things had been different Cal would have noticed Jack wasn't around, but as it was, he felt so good-so healthy, so full of life-he didn't give Jack's absence a thought. No doubt some part of him hoped Jack was invisible again, now that he was going to live.

He kissed Rose good morning, earning a bright smile. "You're in a good mood," she said.

"And why shouldn't I be? I have my strength back. My loving parents aren't here, watching us." He kissed her again. "And I have you, liebling."

"Cal, I'm glad you're feeling better. You don't know how glad I am to see you like this," Rose said. "But about your family-"

"Don't worry about them, liebling."

"As much as I enjoyed your defending me," she said. "I don't want to be the reason you lose them. You shouldn't have to choose between us, and I won't ask you to."

Cal put his hand under her chin. "I already chose you," he said. "If it comes to that. _They're_ the ones trying to make me choose, not you. Don't worry about it."

"I know what it's like to give up your family," Rose said. "To give up one life for another. I've done it, remember? I don't want you to regret this."

"Did you ever regret your choice?"

"No," she said. "Not for a second. I'd do it again."

"Exactly," Cal said.

….

He told her he was going to the office, and he planned to, at some point, but first he had an appointed with a Detective Ryan. Cal held the sugar bowl tightly as he walked into the detective's office. He was sure the other man though he was crazy, but thanks to his name and position-not to mention his money-he couldn't refuse to help.

"This is what I called you about," Cal said, setting the bowl on the desk.

"And you believe there's poison in it?" Ryan said. He removed the lid and shifted the bowl's contnets.

"I have reason to believe that, yes,"

Ryan glanced at him. "You look pretty good for a guy being fed poison."

"It's nearly out of my system," Cal replied. "If it isn't already. I was lucky."

"And you don't know who'd do this? Or why?"

"I'm sure there's a list of people who want me dead or incapacitated," Cal said. He shook his head. "It could be almost anyone, as far as motive is concerned. I've crossed people in business. Had love affairs end badly. The problem is, I can't think of a way for anyone to get close enough to me," he explained. "Unless they're using one of the servants."

"It's possible," Ryan said. "People'll do a lot of crazy things for money."

"You don't have to tell me."

"I can look into this," Ryan said. "If there's something to find, me and my guys'll find it. I'll send this to be tested. Maybe we'll get lucky, and it'll be something that's hard to get. Narrow down our list of suspects."

"Be as discreet as possible," Cal said. "I don't want anyone knowing about this. And move as quickly as you can. I'm worried whoever this is has decided to involve my wife."

"Does she know what's going on?"

"She knows I've been ill," Cal said. "She's the reason I'm still alive. If she suspects poison, she hasn't told me."

"Do you think _she_ could have done this?" Ryan asked. "You're a very wealthy man, after all. It's not unheard of."

"You aren't the first person to suggest that, but I assure you, Rose isn't involved. There's simply no way."

"Money makes people do crazy things," Ryan reminded him. "You said so yourself just now."

"Nor Rose," Cal said firmly. "If she wants my money, she can have it. She knows that. The funny thing is, she doesn't want it." Cal's features softened as he talked about Rose. Jack felt his love for her. It was strong and warm, like an embrace. He liked it. He let it envelope him. This wasn't so different from the way _he_ felt about Rose, but at the same time, it was.

When he was alive, Jack sometimes wondered how other people saw the world. He'd never given much thought to how they felt, assuming everyone's feelings were pretty much the same. Now he knew they weren't; what they saw was as different as what they felt. His love was a deep blue, steady, reassuring, always there, ready to take her in. Cal's was red, with shades of scarlet and crimson. It was passionate and sometimes volatile. His emotions burned within him. It was intoxicating but also dangerous. Jack saw the changes in Cal, but he also saw the man he once was, and it worried him.

….

Rose laughed as Cal twirled her. "What's this about?" she asked. He pulled her close and dipped her low, kissing her.

"Nothing," he replied. "I'm just glad to be alive."

She wrapped her arms around him. "So am I."

"Liebling, have you had lunch yet?"

She shook her head. "I was waiting for you. You said you'd be back in time."

"Let's go out then," he suggested. "Anywhere you want."

"Are you sure? Cal, you know how extravagant I can be."

He grinned. "I hope you will be."

….

She wasn't. They ate sandwiches in the park. Cal didn't object. He just laughed. "Whatever you want, liebling," he said.

"I'll have to go back to New York soon," Rose said, as they ate. Cal looked at her, surprised. "You will?" he said.

"All my things are there. My life-Well, I don't have a job anymore, but I have friends. They probably think I'd dead. And the buildings," she added. "I can't just abandon everything."

"No, of course not."

"Were you planning to stay here permanently now?" she asked.

"It's my home," Cal said thoughtfully. "You don't want to stay, do you?"

"I want to be with you. If that means staying here, I will."

"With my parents right down the street," he said wryly.

"I'm sure they'll drop in often."

"There's no reason to stay here," he said. "At least, not forever. I can keep going back and forth. Most of my work is in New York now anyway."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Quite. And besides, I wanted to take you away somewhere after we were married."

"You didn't tell me that," Rose said.

"It was supposed to be a surprise. I had it planned out. I knew you didn't want an elaborate wedding, so I was making arrangements for something small. I was having a dress made for you."

"You were? Cal, you didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to," he said. "It's not too presumptuous?"

"No. I'm sorry it had to be this way," she said.

He touched her hand. "I'm not."

….

Jack felt everything Cal felt. He felt when Cal touched Rose, when he kissed her. He felt him want her.

And he felt when Rose touched him. Her hands, her lips. She kissed Cal's neck, gently grazing the skin with her teeth. Cal sucked in his breath; he twisted her dress in his fingers. She moved down his throat, unbuttoning his shirt.

"Rose," he whispered.

Jack felt it all. His body was alive again. Blood coursed through him. It didn't matter that it was really Cal's body, that it was Cal's pleasure he felt, or that it was Cal Rose was kissing. Jack knew he should care, and in the past, he had, but not now. It was too intoxicating. Too real. Too much of what he'd wanted for so long.

Cal swept her up in his arms, and she laughed. His shirt was on the floor. Rose's dress was undone. "I love you," he said, laying her on the bed.

Rose moved her fingertips down his stomach. She smiled coyly. "I love you too."

…

Cal's arms were wrapped around her. Rose lay against him. She breathed slowly, nearly asleep. "How did I ever live without you?" he murmured.

"You don't have to."

"I refuse to," he said.

As he fell asleep, Cal found himself thinking of Cassandra. He pictured her, remembering the way she was when he knew her. She was so beautiful. He heard her laugh. When she looked at him, Cal felt like he was the only man in the room. He was certainly the only man who mattered.

Cassandra was the first woman he ever made love with. That was a detail he tended to overlook. After her, he always pursued younger, inexperienced women, but back then, he was the inexperienced one. He was nervous. He loved her even more than he wanted her. What if he failed in some way? What if he wasn't good enough?

"Don't be afraid," Cassandra said, taking his hand. "It comes naturally." And it had.

Long after the affair ended, Cal measured his lovers against her. No-one ever surpassed her or even came close, until Rose. With Rose, everything was different. It was all so much better.

Jack floated up. He lay on the ceiling, looking down at them. They were so natural together. Rose tucked right into Cal's arms. He could protect her easily. They made love gracefully. They anticipated the other's next move; they knew just how to touch one another. Jack thought it would never end. He wasn't sure he wanted it to end. As long as Rose didn't say Cal's name, he could pretend it was really him.

Except it wasn't, and now Jack felt worse than ever.

….

"There it is." Cal wiped a thick layer of dust from the trunk's lid. How long had it been since he came up here? Ten years, at least. There were clothes at the top. He pulled out each piece, hardly believing they were real. These weren't his suits. Another man wore them. Those months were part of a whole other life.

He kept digging until finally, at the bottom, he found what he wanted. Cal opened the box, half-expecting it to be empty. It would be just like his father to take it, even though he had packed it away willingly years ago. As far as Cal knew at the time, he was never going to touch it again. He never wanted to see it again, let alone play.

Cal ran a cloth over the violin's surface. He wanted to play now. He'd play for Rose.

 **AN: Thanks to everyone who's been reading and following my stories! I promise I will start posting regular updates soon! I've been incredibly busy the past month or so, moving, job hunting, and the like.**


	22. Chapter 22

Diana paced back and forth in front of the fire place, cigarette in hand. "What if it doesn't work?" she said. "What if he tells Cal what we're up to? Or what if he's caught?"

"So what if he's caught?" Robert said with a dismissive shrug. "He's no-one."

"He'll confess," she said. "And take us down with him!"

"That won't happen." He put his hand on her shoulders, bringing her to a stop. He looked down into her eyes. They were full of doubt, but also, determination. She wanted this as much as he did; he just had to remind her. "If he tried, no-one would believe him," he said reassuringly. "We'll have alibis, and why would we want to kill your cousin? No detective could work out our plan. There's no simply path from his money to us. If they blame anyone else, it'll be his wife."

"She'll be a problem," Diana said. "She already has been." She frowned. "If only I could've married him. It would all be so much simpler."

"Maybe so, but I don't relish the idea of you in his arms," Robert said, pulling her closer. "You might succumb to his crude charms, and then where would I be? No fortune and no lover."

"That would never happen." She titled her head up and kissed him. "I'm all yours."

"Good," he said, with a smile. "This is almost over. You just have to hold on a little longer. Marcus knows what to do, and he knows what will happen if he fails."

"I'm still worried about Rose. She has more influence over Cal than we anticipated. She got his parents out of the way; no girl's ever managed that,"

"We'll take care of her, if it comes to that," he said. "Don't worry. She's no threat to us."

...

"Telephone call for you, sir."

"Thank you," Cal replied. Belinda gave a slight curtsy and was gone. Cal picked up the phone on the side table. Rose glanced up from her book. "Yes?" he said amiably.

"Mr. Hockley?" Ryan's voice was unmistakable on the other end.

"Speaking. What can I do for you?" Cal was careful not to give anything away in his tone. He watched Rose's gaze fall back to the page and was glad. He planned to tell her everything, but not until he knew more.

"I had that bowl's contents analyzed," Ryan said. "And you were right. It was a mix of sugar and arsenic."

"I see."

Arsenic should've killed him already. Perhaps they switched poisons when the first attempt didn't work? Well, he chuckled to himself. Whoever this was, they would just have to be content with failure.

"I need a thorough list of everyone who works in close contact with you and anyone you've been close to recently," Ryan said. "Try to think of people who stand to benefit from your death. Leave no-one out, not even those you trust. Not even your wife," he added.

"I already told you, that's not possible," Cal said. "Don't give it another thought. I'll get you the things you need, but don't waste time pursuing dead ends."

"You're awfully sure about this."

"I am," Cal said firmly. He glanced at Rose. "It just isn't possible. Can we meet tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Ryan said. "Around two."

"Fine. I'll see you then."

Cal's shoulders felt heavier as he hung up. Jack watched from the ceilong. He didn't have to hear the other side of the conversation to know what it was about. He offered Cal a sympathetic nod and received one in return. Cal wasn't surprised when Jack suddenly reappeared, but he _was_ taken aback by how pleased he was to see him again. Jack didn't explain his absence, and Cal didn't ask.

"What was that about?" Rose said.

"And investment I've been looking into." He felt gulity for lying, but it was the only way. "I have to go to the office tomorrow. Will you be alright on your own for a while?"

"Of course," she replied. "I really should be making arrangements to go back to New York anyway."

"If you can spare a few more days, I'll go with you."

Rose smiled. "I'd like that. I wasn't too excited about going without you."

"I have some work to finish here, but once that's done we can go. I'm looking forward to getting back."

"I thought you hated New York," she said.

"Not anymore. How can I? It's where I fell in love with you," Cal said. "It's one of my favorite places now."

"I want to see the other places you love."

"I'll take you," he promised. "Soon. I just have a few things to wrap up there, and then we'll be off."

...

Marcus looked skeptical. "How do I know you won't just try and pin this on us if something goes wrong?" Belinda sat next to him, hands folded in her lap. Her grey eyes looked vacant, but it was an illusion. She heard and understood everything.

"Good question," Robert said. "How do _we_ know you won't try the same thing?"

"What'd believe us?" Marcus said. His eyes gleamed triumphantly. What reply could Robert make to that?

"Maybe no-one, at first," Robert said. "But if you persisted, then who knows? The public loves a good scandal, loves to see the rich and powerful fall. At the very least, you could ruin our reputations, and isn't that just as effective and sending us to prison?"

Marcus considered his words for a moment. "You might have a point," he said. "What exactly do we get out of this?"

"I'm glad you asked," Robert said. "You will be generously compensated. With what we stand to gain, our generosity will have few limits."

"That isn't saying much." Belinda's voice startled them all. She was alert now. "You give us a figure, or we aren't discussing this anymore."

"Well," Robert said, hiding his annoynace. "Someone's quite forceful." He grinned flirtatiously. "Alright. How's $100,000 suit you?"

" _Each_ ," Belinda said.

Robert's mouth twitched. "Each," he said. "Of course."

Diana stared at him. What was he thinking involving these two? And giving away a small ortune on top of everything else? The whole venture seemed too risky; what they would gain wasn't enough anymore. It was doomed to failure. If they hadn't succeeded the first time, how could they succeed now? Her stomach tightened. Bringing more people into the fold was a bad idea. She was sure of it.

...

The office fluttered with news of his arrival. Cal strode into the building like a returning king, but it was clear from a glance he'd undergone quite an ordeal. He flashed a smile at Sheila, who swallowed her shock. "Mr. Hockley," she said, leaping to her feet. "I heard you were coming back, but-"

"You can sit down," he said easily. "But you didn't believe it? I'm sure no-one did."

"It's good to see you up and about, sir."

"Thank you," he said. "It's good to be up." He looked around. "And to see the place hadn't completely fallen apart."

"We've managed," Shelia said. "Not that we didn't feel your absence," she added quickly.

Cal smiled slightly. "No need to explain."

"You should know, Mr. Benson's here."

His smile became a frown. "Robert Benson? From New York? What's he doing here?"

"Apparently, your cousin Frank sent him."

"Frank?" Cal said, confused. "Do you mean Frank's been taking things oer?"

"Well, yes, actually," Shelia said. "Mr. Benson indicated they had your approval. Didn't you know?"

"No," Cal said. "I wasn't told anything."

"He's here, if you want to speak with him."

"Yes," he said. "Call him in my office."

Cal was ready when Robert arrived. He sat behind his desk, relaxed but alert, hands steepled under his chin. If Robert was surprised to see him, he didn't show it. Cal had a grudging respect for his calm demeanor, considering the circumstances.

"I was starting to wonder if you'd ever come back," Robert said, with what he hoped was an engaging smile.

"Your concern is noted." Cal spoke evenly, but there was an edge beneath his words, a threat, Robert assumed, though what sort, exactly, he didn't know. His expression froze, and he sat down. "We were all concerned. Your cousin Frank-"

"So I've heard," Cal said. "I suppose I should thank him for keeping things running in my absence. I'm certainly glad to see he's done well."

"Everyone knows the business means everything to you," Robert said. "Frank did what anyone who cares about you would do."

"It doesn't mean everything to me. It did, but not anymore."

"Oh?" Robert said. He leaned forward, intrigued. "Are you referring to this mysterious wife of yours?"

"Mysterious?"

"I've heard about her from Frank, but he was somewhat evasive. I think we've met, though."

"When did you meet?" Cal asked, indifferently, masking suspicion.

"Oh, maybe a month ago? Frank invited me to dinner, and she was there. She wasn't your wife yet, of course. I didn't even know the two of you knew one another, much less that you were engaged."

"Few people knew."

Cal couldn't explain why. but there was something about Robert he didn't like. He appeared concerned, interested, but Cal saw something in his eyes, though he tried to hide it. He thought he _was_ hiding it, and maybe that's what made it so easy to see. His confidence, the certainty that no-one would ever suspect him of anything, gave him away.

"I can't imagine wanting to keep a girl like that a secret," Robert said. "Unless I was worried someone else might come along and whisk her away.

Cal's mouth twitched with amusement. "I'm hardly concerned about that." His gaze hardened/ "What's mine is mine." It was a warning. He didn't quite know why he was giving it; he just knew it needed to be done.

...

"You're back," Rose said, a mix of pleased and relieved. She tilted her head up. His kiss was soft, his arm firm around her waist. Cal smiled down at her, not letting go.

"Of course I am," he said. "Were you worried, liebling?"

"Not worried, exactly. Just..." She let the sentence dangle. There was no need to say more. He understood.

"Everything's fine," he said, holding her tighter.

"How were things at the office?"

"Better than I expected," he said.

"But?" she prompted.

"Who said anything about that?"

" _You_ want to," Rose replied. "What happened?"

"Nothing." And in a way, it was true. He couldn't explain the scene to Rose, not without sounding crazy. He was sure she'd think he was overreacting, and besides, he still hadn't told her about the poisoning. That couldn't be put off forever; the longer he waited, the harder it would be.

"Just tell her," Jack urged.

Cal ignored him. "It's just business," he said. "You don't need to concern yourself with it, liebling."

Rose peered into his eyes. They were darker than usual. Clouded. "You don't have to be this way, Cal," she said. "You don't have to be this man. Not with me. You know that, don't you?"

"Tell her," Jack urged again.

"I know," Cal said. "I promise, Rose, I'll tell you. Soon. When I can."

"Do you mean that?"

"Of course I do," he said. "I won't lie to you."

"You don't have to tell me everything," she said. "As long as you know you can. That's all I want."

He kissed her. "Ich kenne. Ich liebe dich." _I know. I love you._

Jack shook his head. "Just tell her already."

...

Jack perched on the mantle, knees drawn up to his chest. He watched them silently. Cal tried to ignore him. Jack's annoyance filled the room; he wondered how Rose kept from sensing it.

"I want more tea," Rose said. "Do you want something?"

"No," Cal said. "Thank you." She stood up, gathering the tea things. "Ring for Belinda," he said.

"I can manage on my own."

"But it's her job," he argued.

"I know. Still, I'd rather do it myself. It's nice doing things for yourslelf, don't you think?"

"If that's what you want," he replied lightly.

Rose ruffled his hair. "Spoiled." She smiled. "How can I love you?"

Cal grinned rakishly. "How can you not?"

"You think you're utterly irresistible." She tossed her curls and turned to go. "But you aren't." He put his hands on her waist, gently pulling her into his lap. She looped an arm around his neck. "You are," he said. "And we're so alike in some ways, don't you think?"

Jack wanted to protest. No, they weren't. Rose was nothing like him. She was unique. Special. Better than Cal. But he couldn't, and not only because she wouldn't hear him. It was true. They were alike in so many ways. Both were stubborn and so sure of themselves, always; they projected confidence in the midst of chaos and panic. She'd mostly outgrown it, but they shared a past in which they were spoiled and deferred to. They had certain expectations for themselves and the world. Rose's were more reasonable, but even now, part of her expected things to work out. Expected to succeed. She knew how terrible things could get, but she also knew she could survive. Would survive. Cal just assumed he always would, and why not? He was _Cal_ ; that was enough for him.

They were beautiful. Quick-witted. Strong but guarded. Cal's emotions ruled him; passion and fear had always dictated his every move. Rose held back until her feelings threatened to break free and drown her.

Jack understood why they worked so well together, but he also feared what might happen. He had no reason to suspect Cal of anything, but who knew what might happen.

"Maybe that's why we had so much trouble getting along the first time," Rose said.

"I thought _I_ was the trouble."

"I can't blame you entirely," she replied.

"I can."

"Cal, we've been over this," she said. "I don't want to talk about it again." She kissed him. "Can't we just be happy now?"

"Of course, liebling," he said. "We can do anything you want."

She kissed him again. "I want tea."

"Ring for Belinda," he said.

Rose shook her head. "I'll be back in a minute."

When she was gone, Cal said, "You think I'm wrong for not telling her."

"Does it matter what I think?"

"Why wouldn't it?" Cal said.

"She needs to know. She should hear it from you. She'll think she can't trust you if she doesn't."

"She knows she can trust me," Cal said.

"Not if she thinks you're keeping things from her."

"You heard what she said," Cal argued. "I don't have to tell her everything. She accepts that I might have secrets."

"I doubt this is what she had in mind," Jack countered. "And for how long? This affects her too, you know. Someone wants to destroy your life. They want you dead."

"I think I know who."

"You don't have enough to make a claim like that," Jack said. "All you've got is a feeling."

"My feelings are never wrong. I had a feeling about you."

"You need more," Jack said. "Talk to Rose."

...

"Stand here," Cal instructed.

Rose looked skeptical. "Why?"

"Be patient. You'll see," he said.

She watched as he opened a wooden case. The violin gleamed from a recent polishing. Rose held her breath as he began to play. The notes drifted out slowly at first. He looked down at the strings, forgetting everything else as his confidence grew.

His hands moved nimbly. Rose recognized the piece. It was one she'd learned on the piano, a lifetime ago. Cal played with ease, despite the years. It came naturally. The time spent studying and practicing were there, but Rose could tel he was drawn to the music; the urge to play was in his blood. He played the way Jack drew.

There were tears in her eyes hwen he finished. Her voice was thick. "That was amazing," she said. "Cal, you play exquisitely."

"It's just something I used to do," Cal said.

" _Now_ you choose modesty?"

"I'm glad you liked it," he said.

"I loved it. I wish you'd played for me sooner."

"If I had back then..." Cal let the question dangle. He felt Jack's stare.

"You'll keep playing, won't you?" Rose sai. "You won't give it up again?"

"I won't give it up, liebling." Cal glanced at the violin. "I'd sooner give you up."

His fingers had lost their calluses; they were pink, bordering on raw. He barely felt it.

"Let me see," Rose said, taking his hand. She carefully placed the violin back in its case. She caressed his hands, marveling at their shape. "You have lovely hands," she murmured. "I never noticed."

Cal's heart beat faster as she kissed his fingertips. Jack covered his eyes and turned to face the wall.

"I'll play again," Cal said softly.

"Please do."

The music filled the room, and once again, it was just the two of them, making their own world. Cal never wanted it to end. He played until his fingers bled, but he didn't care. Rose bandaged them, and they went to bed. He held her, buoyed by the certainty that whatever was coming, he could wrest control of it.


	23. Chapter 23

Had he known Rose's preference for doing things herself was keeping them safe, Cal might not have argued against it so much. But it never occurred to him members of his household staff might betray him, and so he continued to try and convince her to take advantage of having servants. Rose listened but kept doing things her own way. "As always," he said.

"Unlike you," Rose replied good-naturedly.

"I've never insisted on my own way," Cal said, feigning shock. "How could you suggest that?" He grinned and pulled her to him. "I've gotten much better," he added, with a kiss.

"You have."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. His hands encircled her waist. "Musst du gehen?" she whispered. _Do you have to go?_

"Ich wünschte ich nicht, liebling." _I wish I didn't, darling._

"Don't, then," she said.

"It's not that easy," he said. He kissed her forehead. "I have a lot of catching up to do. Frank's already acting like he's in charge."

"Don't be too late? You're still recovering."

"I'll be back in time for dinner," he promised. He kissed her again. "I'll take you out somewhere."

"Somewhere extravagant, I presume."

"You choose," he said. He gave her one last kiss. "I'll be home at six."

Rose watched him go with a sigh. It was so easy for him to leave. He didn't even look back. She didn't realize he couldn't look back; if he did, he wouldn't go.

...

There was so much work to be done. There was always so much work to be done. Sometimes, it seemed to Cal he never did anything else. When he was surrounded by paperwork, with a dozen calls to return, it was easy to forget all the extensive vacations he'd taken over the years. Of course, that was also before his position was under threat.

Cal sighed. When had everything changed? When did he go from the undisputed leader to a king in danger of toppling from his throne? Had it been happening, slowly, and he just didn't notice? It was true, he hadn't paid quite as much attention since moving in with Rose, but he couldn't be expected to sacrifice every last moment to work. His father, however, would disagree. Cal could hear him already, his disgust at the suggestion of a need for anything more than work and money. Time with his wife? Time to himself? Those were luxuries that could come _after_ he finished the task at hand. Only, there was always another task waiting.

Nathan hadn't spent much time at home when Cal was growing up. He was there for formal occasions, dinners and parties, but Cal didn't attend those until he was well into his teens. By that point, he was being groomed to join his father as a master of the universe. He was there during their travels, sometimes. Usually, Nathan managed to make it up to their summer house for a weekend or two each month. And there were holidays, a whole other sort of formal occasion, with its own duties and events.

It was only after he left for college that Cal discovered his father's other residences. Apartments tucked away in the city, in nondescript buildings no-one would ever suspect. He didn't know who Nathan lived there with, but he could guess. The truth was, Cal didn't want to know. His parents marriage wasn't perfect; he harbored no illusions about any sort of romance between them; if such a thing had existed, it died out long ago, but it met a certain set of standards. It was perfectly respectable, exemplary, even. Why go digging into things best left alone? After all, Cal reasoned, plenty of other men they knew engaged in the same behavior. If Angelica was bothered by her husband's activities, she never said anything.

It didn't occur to Cal until much later that she was unlikely to share such a confidence with him.

Without giving it much thought, Cal assumed he would behave the same way, more or less. Even during his engagement to Rose he saw other women. Why not? He could do what he liked. Occasionally, he'd look at Rose and think, once they were married, he'd stop, but fortunately, he never had to test that resolve. Now, being with another woman was unfathomable.

He worked through lunch, ignoring his hunger. He could've had something brought up, but even that would waste time he didn't have. There was nothing to be done about his illness; those weeks were gone, but if he worked hard enough, he could make up for them.

...

Rose was trying Belinda's patience. Nothing she tried worked. How could she slip poison into a cup of tea Rose made for herself? Or into a meal Rose not only prepared but served herself? Nancy, resigned to Rose's ways, merely shrugged and enjoyed the unexpected leisure time. Belinda fumed silently and waited for a chance.

It came late that afternoon. Rose was in the sitting room, curled up on the sofa with a book. She didn't notice Belinda come in or the tea tray being set down. Belinda stepped back, keeping a respectful distance. "I've brought tea, ma'am," she said.

"Tea?" Rose glanced over at the table. "Oh. That wasn't necessary." She hid her confusion. It had been so long since she had servants, but she couldn't remember any of them ever bringing anything without being asked. Perhaps Cal's were different? It wouldn't be _that_ surprising to find out he'd trained them to anticipate his needs. Or maybe Belinda was trying to remind her of their roles.

"Should I take it away?" Belinda asked.

"No," Rose said. "Thank you."

Belinda curtseyed and slipped from the room.

"I may as well drink it," Rose said, pouring a cup of tea.

Jack leapt down from the mantel. "No, you won't," he said. She raised the cup to her lips, and he grabbed her hand. Rose's brow furrowed. Her hand trembled. She gripped the cup tighter. "What...?"

Jack took hold of the cup. "I'm sorry, Rose," he said. He tipped the cup, spilling its contents on the rug. He released his hold on her, and the trembling in her hand stopped. Rose sank onto the sofa, heart beating wildly. What just happened? Was it some kind of spasm? Had she imagined it?

She took a deep breath. Whatever it was, it seemed to be over. She picked up the teapot. Jack lay his hand over hers, gently this time, so there was no trembling. In one quick motion, he pushed it out of her grip. It shattered. Shards of porcelain littered the floor. A puddle of tea spread across the dark wood, soaking the rug.

"I don't understand," Rose said, an anxious note in her voice. "I could've sworn..."

Jack kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry, Rose," he said. "I had to do it."

...

Despite the pressure to keep going, Cal kept his word and arrived home promptly at six. Rose smiled when she saw him. "I didn't expect you yet," she said.

"I said I'd be home." He kissed her. "Didn't you believe me?"

"It's not that I didn't believe you," she replied. "I know how caught up you get in your work."

"I've had enough for one day," Cal said. "I'd rather be with you now."

Rose feigned shock. "I outrank the thrill of making money?"

Cal pulled her to him. "Liebling, you outrank everything else in my life," he said. "And I believe I promised you a nice dinner."

"An extravagant dinner," she teased.

"Is that what you want?"

"You know it isn't," she replied good-naturedly.

"Are you sure?" His tone was serious, but his eyes were laughing. "I thought that was the sort of thing you loved." He kissed her. "Tell me where you'd like to go, Liebling," he said.

"We'll figure it out," Rose said. "Wait a moment while I change?"

"Of course."

It was only after she was gone that Cal noticed Jack. He stood by the window, wearing a deep frown. "What's wrong?" Cal asked.

"You need to leave. Take her back to New York."

"I'm going to," Cal replied. "What brought that on?"

"It's not safe here," Jack said. "I told you it wasn't." His blue eyes were hard.

"You told me some things, but you never gave me details. What's going on?" Cal demanded.

"People are still trying to kill you, that's what's going on," Jack said.

Cal stared at him, incredulous. "You can't be serious."

"Keep your voice down. You want people thinking you talk to yourself?"

"What happened?" Cal asked, in a low tone this time.

"Your maid, Belinda, she tried to poison Rose." Jack couldn't help but sound accusing. He knew it wasn't Cal's fault; he didn't ask for any of this to happen. Hadn't he nearly died himself? And yet, wasn't it his fault, just a little? Wasn't he the one who spent years ruthlessly taking what he wanted, doing whatever he liked, and making enemies along the way? Wasn't he the one who believed himself royal, invincible? And now, he'd pulled Rose into _his_ problems, as if she had anything to do with them.

"You shoulda left already," Jack went on. "It's what I would've done. But no, you had to stay and prove you can control everything, no matter what."

"Are you saying I intentionally put her in danger?"

"You didn't keep her out of it," Jack said coldly.

"How can you blame me for this?" Cal snapped. "You-"

" _I_ was here today, making sure nothing happened!" Jack cried. "If it wasn't for me, she could be dead now!"

His words were like a punch to the chest. Cal could only stare at him. Was he right? Was this in some way his fault? The danger had seemed to pass. If he suspected anyone, it was a jealous colleague or angry relative, but it never occurred to him to question the staff. Cal wasn't sure why, aside from the fact he paid them. That should've been enough to inspire at least a modicum of loyalty.

"Why didn't you tell me when it happened?" Cal asked, in a defeated voice.

"I didn't want to leave her."

"Wouldn't you sense if something was happening?" Cal pointed out.

"So?" Jack countered. "Why didn't _you_ sense it?"

"I don't know. I don't...I don't sense things."

"Not even Rose?" Jack said.

An overwhelming feeling of insignificance washed over Cal as he admitted, "No. Not even Rose." He knew Jack was judging him. Jack would've known something was wrong, even from miles away. Jack would've come home early. But not him. Cal had often questioned his ability to love Rose, fearing a return to his former ways. He no longer compared himself to Jack, believing his love for her was just as valid.

But not anymore. Now, he knew, no matter what he did, he would never measure up against Jack.

...

Cal put on a cheerful face, and after some searching, they settled on a quaint Greek restaurant. Jack followed, not surprisingly. He stayed quiet, but Cal still felt his judgment. The worst part was, he couldn't disagree.

"Is something wrong?" Rose asked, startling him out of his thoughts.

"No. Of course not." Cal grinned and reached for her hand across the table. "I'm sorry. I just have so much to think about right now."

"We could've stayed home."

He shook his head. "I want us to have time together. It's important. Things have been so strange lately. We've lost that routine we had."

"Well, we've lost any chance of being humdrum," Rose joked.

"I liked our routine," Cal said.

There was something in his eyes; it was almost sadness. She gave his hand a squeeze. "We'll get it back," she promised. Rose wanted to tell him about what happened, but the look in his eyes stopped her. Telling him would only add more stress, and besides, she wasn't sure what actually happened. She could've imagined it.

"What do you say we leave tomorrow?" he suggested.

"Do you mean it? I thought you wanted to wait until-"

"I did," he said. "But not anymore. We should go back. That's our home now." He glanced over her shoulder at Jack, who just stared at him, his face blank.

"Well, this a surprise," Rose said.

"I'm a surprising person."

"You are," she agreed, with a smile.

"This food is surprising," Cal said. He gave his plate a wary look.

"Haven't you had Greek food?"

"No," he said. "I never had any inclination to try it."

"You must," Rose urged. "It's delicious." She watched, amused, as he took a delicate bite. Slowly, his expression changed, from wariness to delight.

"It is delicious!" he said. He laughed. "It doesn't look like it would be, but it's quite good."

"I told you."

"You always were adventurous," he said.

"And you were so _safe_ all the time."

"Is that so bad?" he asked.

"Not since you learned to relax."

...

Rose linked her arm with Cal's as they went outside. The night was clear and cold. "What do you say we don't go home just yet?" he asked.

She gave him an intrigued look. "What do you have in mind?"

He grinned. "It's a surprise."

"A surprise?" Rose said. "From you? I wouldn't have thought." She smiled and gave his arm a squeeze. "It won't be extravagant, will it?"

"Maybe."

"Cal," she said.

"Liebling, I promise you'll like it," he said. "Trust me."

Rose was indeed surprised when the car stopped in front of a dancehall. "Is this the surprise?" she said. Cal nodded. "We're going dancing?" she added. "Here?"

He nodded again. "Unless you'd rather not."

Excitement lit up her face. "No, I want to. I just never imagined you'd want to."

"I like dancing," he said.

"But _here_?"

"I've been to places like this before," he replied. "I didn't hate it completely."

Rose laughed. "Such high praise."

Inside, it was warm, hot even, with the crush of bodies. They breathed in perfume and smoke. Rose didn't recognize the music being played, but that didn't matter. Her heart beat faster, and she pulled Cal into the middle of the floor. The crowd seemed to part for them. He took that as a given.

"How do we dance to this?" he asked.

"We just do," she replied.

Holding each other close, they found the rhythm of the music; it flowed through them, telling their bodies what to do. Cal couldn't believe how easy it was. His movements weren't awkward or mannered, the way they usually were.

"You dance wonderfully," Rose said.

"I owe it to my partner."

Jack watched from the ceiling. Rage brewed within him. It wasn't fair. Cal didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve _her_. After all the lying he'd done, after everything he was still keeping from her, and now, here he was, dancing as if nothing was wrong. Rose could've _died_ because he didn't warn her. So what if he didn't know his staff was involved? He should've suspected everyone.

Jack didn't want to admit it, but deep down he knew, it was his fault as well. He could've tried harder to find out everything that was going on. He could've pushed them to leave sooner. Kept telling Cal to have only Rose handle their food. But was it really his responsibility? Couldn't Cal do _something_ for himself?

Jack gazed down at Rose. She was his responsibility. She was both of theirs. Together, they should've been able to protect her better.

"Do you need a break?" Rose asked. Her cheeks were flushed. A fine layer of perspiration covered her neck. Her curls were beginning to wilt from the heat.

"A drink would be nice," Cal said.

"I could use one too."

Rose couldn't help thinking of Jack. If he were alive, this was the sort of thing they'd do all the time. No-one, not even Cal, had ever danced with her the way he did.

She pushed the thoughts away, firmly closing her mind to them. There was a time to remember, and it wasn't now.

Cal saw them first, standing near the back of the room. Diana was looking at Robert, speaking rapidly, though he couldn't hear what she was saying. A frown was etched into Robert's face, and he clutched a drink.

"Isn't that your cousin, Diana?" Rose asked. "What's she doing here?" Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And with him?"

"I was thinking the same thing." He took her hand. "Come on."

"Cal, what are we doing?"

"We're going over to talk to them," he said.

"We are? Why? Cal?"

He didn't respond. Rose stared at him. What was going on? There was an odd look in his eyes. It was vaguely familiar; it reminded her of the past, and she didn't like it.

"Well, Diana," Cal said jovially. "What a surprise."

Diana's eyes widened. Her mouth clamped shut. Robert's frown disappeared, leaving a smile with a hint of mocking. His eyes were glassy. When he spoke, his words were a shade too precise, as though he were trying not to slur them. "Cal," he said. "And your lovely wife."

"We didn't expect to see you here," Cal said. His gaze lingered in Diana. "It's so unlike you."

"Everyone has to have an adventure once in a while," Robert replied.

"Is that what it is?" Cal said.

Diana's eyes hardened. "I certainly never expected to see you here either," she said. "It must be your wife's choice."

Rose glared at the two of them. The slights weren't worth verbal responses.

As he stood there, something clicked in Cal's mind. The suspicious feeling he'd gotten from Robert suddenly made sense. It all suddenly made sense.

 **AN: I hope you like this chapter. I had a lot of trouble writing it, and I'm still not totally happy with it. I was a little stuck on this story last week. It's getting close to the end, and I know what's going to happen, but getting there has been hard.**


	24. Chapter 24

"Now you get it," Jack said.

"Now I get it," Cal replied. He shook his head. "Even after what I went through, I still didn't believe anything could touch us. I survived, so that proved it. What can I say? I'm an arrogant bastard. Always was."

Jack allowed himself a bitter chuckle. "Well, at least you know."

Upstairs, Rose slept peacefully, unaware of what was happening in the room below. The strange look had remained in Cal's eyes for the rest of the evening, and that worried her, but she didn't let it bother her too much. It was just a look; it could mean anything. So what if it reminded her of the past? Hadn't she already been thinking about Jack? Maybe she was just looking for something to bring back those days, one way or another.

And besides, she didn't like Robert or Diana one bit. If Cal wanted to give them funny looks, let him.

She didn't know Cal had fired Belinda shortly after they arrived home. She was upstairs, taking a bath when it happened.

Belinda knew what was coming the moment she entered his study. Cal's pose was relaxed but alert. He didn't bother looking up from the report he was reading for a full three minutes after she came in. It gave her plenty of time to wonder and worry. When he finally acknowledged her, Belinda's palms were sweating, and her stomach was in knots. He knew; he had to. But how? They'd been so careful, and they hadn't even managed to do anything!

"Belinda," he said. His tone was smooth, almost cordial. She wasn't taken in by it.

"Mr. Hockley. You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I have bad news," he said. "I'm sorry, but we'll no longer be able to retain your services. Mrs. Hockley and I are returning to New York in the morning, and I'm closing the house for the time being." It wasn't a complete lie. He fully intended to leave, and the staff would be reduced slightly, but the others would be given a month of severance pay and a recommendation. They would also be welcomed back in the future.

"I see," Belinda said. "Well, that is unfortunate."

"I'm sorry you weren't given more notice," Cal said. "But things changed rather suddenly." He studied her face, still not quite believing it was the face of a would-be murderer. This woman was part of a plot to kill him, a plot which now included Rose. How long had she been in on it? Was she a conspirator from the beginning? It wasn't her idea; of that he had no doubt. Someone had brought her in, made her promises; likely, they'd told her a share of his fortune would be hers. Well, that wasn't going to happen.

"I understand," Belinda said. She forced herself to speak calmly. He knew. He must. He'd left plenty of times, and no-one had ever been let go like this. Did he expect her to believe this was normal? Did he pay that little attention to the staff? She pushed back a wave of anger. Or was this meant to be a message? Was he telling her he knew, and she could leave quietly or else?

In fact, Cal had taken things a step further and left a message for Ryan. He couldn't prove anything, but maybe she would lead Ryan to whoever else was involved. Gathering proof was his job, after all.

"You have to tell her," Jack said.

"I know."

"Now," Jack urged.

"I know," Cal snapped. "I-" Rose's appearance cut him off. He clamped his mouth shut and shuffled the papers around on his desk, in an attempt to look busy. "Liebling, what are you doing up?" he asked.

"You never came to bed." She perched on the edge of his desk. "I missed you." Glancing at the stack of papers, she said, "What's kept you up this late?"

"Nothing," Cal said. "I was just coming to bed, actually."

Jack spoke in his ear. "Tell her."

"I-"

"Tell her!" Jack cried.

Cal let out a slow breath. "Rose, I need to talk to you."

"Alright." Rose tilted her head, concern in her eyes. "What's wrong? Do you not feel well? Is it-"

He took her hand. "No. No, I'm fine. I feel great," he said. "It's-" The words stuck in his throat. "Liebling, there's something I haven't told you. Something important."

A cold hand closed around Rose's heart. "What haven't you told me?"

"It's about my illness. I know what caused it."

The hand relaxed slightly. "Oh. Well, if that's-"

"I was being poisoned," Cal said.

Rose's eyes widened. "What? How do you know that?"

"I just do," he said. "Let's leave it at that for now. I didn't know who it was, but I think I do now. It had to be someone close to me, someone who could benefit from my death. I should've seen it," he said, more to himself than her. "The way she hovered around me. She's never given me that kind of attention. She doesn't have any nurturing instincts."

"Diana," Rose said.

He nodded. "When I saw her with Robert tonight, I knew. The two of them are involved. It's probably their idea. Belinda was involved as well. I don't know if there were any others."

"Belinda?" Rose gasped. "The woman who-"

"Yes. She's gone now."

Rose's head spun as she tried to make sense of everything he was telling her. "But how? Why?" she said. "And if they were going to kill you, then-" Goosebumps covered her arms. "They were going to kill me too," she whispered.

"That was the plan," he said. "But that's not going to happen. Liebling-"

"How long have you known?"

"What?" he said.

"How long have you known? When did you find out?" She kept going without giving him a chance to reply. "When did you first suspect?" There was an edge in her voice. "Why are you telling me now? Why didn't you tell me as soon as you realized what was happening?"

"Rose-"

She was on her feet. "What else don't I know?" she demanded.

"You know everything. That was-"

"How can I be sure?" she cried. "How do I know you aren't just saying that? How do I know there isn't another secret? Cal, you lied to me! And not just once, but for days, weeks even! You lied to me about something that directly affected my life!" Rose took a breath. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet and cold. "I trusted you. After everything that happened, I trusted you. I believed you when you said you wouldn't lie to me. I believed you wouldn't hurt me this time. You were different."

Cal reached for her hands. "You can trust me, Rose. I only wanted to protect you."

She stepped back, slapping him away. "Don't touch me," she spat. "Not after what you did."

"Rose, please, just let me explain," he begged. "I thought I was doing the right thing by not telling you. I-"

"How could that possibly be the right thing? That's why you asked me to prepare all of our food, isn't it?" Her eyes burned, and her jaw was tight. "So you could be sure it was safe to eat. How could you not tell me that was the reason? I thought it was a bit odd, but I thought maybe it was a sign of affection. Maybe it was another way for me to take care of you while you got better." Tears rolled down her cheeks. "You couldn't tell me? I've been in danger this whole time, and you didn't think it was necessary to tell me?"

"Rose, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Please-" He reached for her again. She twisted away. "Don't!" she yelled. "Don't touch me!"

"Rose-"

"No!" Rose's body trembled. "Just don't. And don't follow me either," she added. "You're the last thing I want to see right now."

Cal fell back into his chair. The door slammed behind her, and it was like a blow. His hands were cold, and there was a tightness in his neck. Pain was already shooting up into his head. But he didn't care; he barely noticed. The real ache was harder to find. It was somewhere deep inside him. "What have I done?" he said. "I've lost her." He waited for a response, but none came. Jack was gone.

...

She wasn't in their room. Cal wasn't sure how long he waited before going to look. It didn't matter. She wasn't there. She didn't want to see him. There was a good chance she'd never want to see him again. And it was all his fault. He'd made it happen; no-one else. He should've known he'd do it. He drove her away the first time. What made him think he could keep her this time? What made him think he'd changed, that he was so much better now than before?

Rose thought he was better now. Or she _did_. Cal doubted she still believe that. After what he'd kept from her, could he blame her?

He conveniently forgot all the times Jack urged him to tell Rose everything.

Finding her wasn't hard. It was a big house, but she was just down the hall in one of the guest rooms. Cal reached up to knock, but the sound of her crying stopped him. His hand flattened against the door, and he leaned forward, suddenly struggling to breathe. It was like the wind had been knocked out of him, like a fist collided with his stomach. For a moment, he thought Jack was behind it, but then he realized, the pain came from inside. It came from knowing just how much he'd hurt Rose.

...

Jack lay next to her. Rose's face was buried in a pillow, muffling her sobs. "It's alright," he said, one hand on her back. "Rose, it's gonna be fine."

"I trusted him," she said. "I believed him. I _married_ him."

"I know," he said. "And I didn't really want you to, but he loves you. He makes you happy." She couldn't hear him, but if let himself, Jack could almost believe she was talking to him.

"I should never have done that," she went on. "I can't trust him. I never could."

"You can, Rose. It looks bad," Jack said. "But it's not the way you think. I told him to tell you, but he wouldn't listen." He sighed. "Maybe I shoulda done it."

"He lied to me," she said. "For weeks. I've been...I should've known something was going on. I was just so relieved he was getting better; I didn't think. I wanted him to be alright. I never suspected something like this was happening. I don't know why. I know what kind of man he was. Who wouldn't want to kill him?"

"He's not like that anymore," Jack said.

"How can I believe anything he tells me?" she went on. "How can I be sure anything he's said up until now has been the truth? What if this was some elaborate scheme?" It sounded crazy even as she said it, but then again, it wasn't too far away from some of the things he had actually done. Was framing Jack any less crazy?

Rose pulled the covers over her head. She hugged a pillow to her chest and closed her eyes. If only she had someone to talk to; if only she weren't alone; if only Jack were there.

"Jack," she whispered. "I need you."

"I'm here."

"It would all be so different if you were here," she said.

"I know," Jack said.

...

She was in his arms. Rose woke up next to him, their bodies curled together. She couldn't believe her eyes. "Jack?"

He nodded. "It's me."

"You feel so real." She squeezed his hand. "Warm."

"I am real," he said.

"That's not possible, Jack."

"Sure it is," he replied. "Here. Now. I'm with you." He caressed her face. "You asked me to come, so I did."

"Is that all it takes?" She laughed sardonically. "I would've done it years ago."

"You remember your dreams," he said. "With me."

"This is a dream?"

"This is as real as you want it to be," he whispered. He brushed his lips across hers. "It's all up to you."

He felt so good. She smelled his skin, his hair; his lips were soft against hers. Rose didn't care about anything else, not Cal, not what she'd learned, and certainly not the fact that all of this was temporary. She had Jack; he was in her arms, kissing her, his fingers moving through her hair. What else could possibly matter?

"I miss you," she murmured.

He looked down into her eyes. "I miss you too, Rose."

He kissed her again, deeply. She held him tighter, a small sigh in her throat. She let her head fall back as he kissed her throat. His hands found her breasts, cupping them through her dress. "Jack," she whispered.

Everything seemed to move faster. Their clothes fell away. Rose wasn't sure they even took them off. They kissed frantically. Rose stroked his face, his back, every part of him she could reach. His touch was the same. His body was the same. She could've sworn no time had passed. It could've been the same night. She never wanted it to end.

...

Cal didn't sleep that night. The bed was empty and cold. He couldn't stay in it. He paced in thier room, and when that wasn't enough, he wandered the house. It was silent and dark, almost frightening. It was easy to imagine a ghost or some other such creature emerging from the shadows. Cal didn't give that much thought, however. His mind was too full for such fears. The possibility of losing Rose was more terrifying than anything else he could imagine.

He passed by her door several times, but he didn't stop.

...

His eyes burned. His mouth was dry, and his stomach hurt. Breakfast wasn't an option. Cal couldn't remember the last time he'd stayed up all night. He couldn't remember feeling this bad afterwards, either.

He bathed and pulled on fresh clothes. His movements were stiff. Robotic. He had no interest in these mundane tasks anymore, though normally he took great care over his appearance. Today, he ran a comb through his hair once and left it at that.

Cal hesitated outside Rose's door. He raised his hand to knock but stopped. What if she didn't answer? Or worse yet, what if she told him to leave? Finally, he knocked.

Silence.

He pressed his hand to the door. "Rose?" His voice was barely more than a whisper. "Liebling?"

Nothing.

Sighing, he dropped his head. He wanted to call out to her, but he couldn't.

...

Jack held her tightly. He wanted the dream to keep going, but the sun peeking through the curtains wasn't going to allow that to happen. Already, he felt Rose slipping away. "Don't go," he said, pressing his face into her curls.

But she was; she had to.

...

Rose was surprised to find herself alone. The dream was so vivid. Her body still hummed. It was almost impossible to believe Jack hadn't really made love to her. She missed him now more than ever. The hole he'd left gaped open, next to the one left by Cal. At this rate, Rose wasn't sure there'd be anything left of her before long.

She followed a routine much like Cal's, though while he had places to go, she had nowhere. There was nothing for her in the city, aside from him. If she left, it wouldn't make a difference, except to him. Rose wondered if that mattered. She studied her ring, watching the way it caught the light. It certainly wasn't the sort of ring she expected to get from him. She remembered how happy she'd been when he gave it to her. Now, even her best memories of him were colored by what she'd learned.

Why had he done it? Why didn't he just tell her the truth from the start?

Rose sighed. She knew why, or thought she did.

...

"Ma'am?"

Rose barely heard the soft knock. "Yes?" she called.

"There's a man downstairs to see you."

"A man?" Rose said, puzzled. Who would be coming to see her? It had to be someone looking for Cal. Or someone sent by Cal. No, she decided. He'd come himself. He knew better than to send an emissary. Or did he? "I'll be right down," she said.

She was surprised to find Robert waiting. He stood up when she came in and held out his hand. She eyed him warily. "To what do I owe this visit?" she asked.

His mouth twitched in amusement. Jack stood next to her, brow furrowed. Something wasn't right.

 **AN: I know it's been ages since I updated. I've been really blocked on all of my stories. I had most of this chapter written weeks ago, but and then I just lost the flow. I'm getting ideas again, so updates should come regularly again! Thanks for being patient!**


	25. Chapter 25

He was going to fix things. By the time the car pulled up outside his office, Cal already had a plan. It wouldn't be easy, but he was secure in his belief that it was possible. First, travel arrangements had to be made. Rose would forgive him, eventually. It was something he had to tell himself, though he didn't quite believe it. Still, he was making progress, and no matter what, Rose needed to be gotten away from his scheming cousin and her lover.

And of course, they would have to be dealt with. The police would be involved, certainly, but Cal intended to handle things his own way before they were informed. It was only right, after what they'd done. He left a message for Diana, asking her to meet him that afternoon. Robert, he was informed, wasn't at the office.

But Nathan was. In fact, he was waiting behind Cal's desk.

"There you are," he said, an impatient edge in his voice. "So good of you to finally join us."

Cal's look was strained. "What are you doing here?"

"Is that any way to great your father?" Nathan asked. "You'd almost think I didn't belong here. Have I been exiled but not informed?"

"No, of course not," Cal replied. "I'm just surprised to see you."

"Well, I could say the same for you since you've been neglecting things so much lately."

"If you're referring to-"

"I'm aware you were ill," Nathan said. "I was there, in case you've forgotten. I was also dismissed, in case you've forgotten that. You've clearly recovered, and I see no reason why you haven't taken hold of things again."

"I've been doing that."

"Is that what you call it?" Nathan scoffed.

Cal sighed quietly. "Yes, that's what I've been doing," he said. "I've hardly seen my wife-"

"Oh, let's not have any talk about her, please. I've heard quite enough from your cousins. And you," Nathan added.

"My cousins? What are you talking about? When did you talk to them?"

"Perhaps if you stayed in touch with the family, you'd know these things," Nathan said. "I've had some disturbing reports from Diana, and they were echoed by Frank. He's doing a fine job in New York, much better than I ever expected, and they both claim you haven't been doing your share. Or much of anything at all lately."

"That's not true," Cal said, aghast. "Anything Diana says-"

"I have no reason to doubt her. Why would I?"

"Because she's lying," Cal snapped. "And this is exactly what she wants."

Nathan's eyes narrowed. "I don't care for your tone, or your recent behavior."

There was a time when this would've frightened Cal into submission, but not anymore. "I'm not sure I care what you think," he said, drawing himself up to his full height. He towered over the desk. For the first time, he noticed how small his father had become, the menacing figure of his youth reduced to human-sized with age. "If you can't see when you're being manipulated, if you're choosing them over your own son-"

"Unfortunately, that appears to be exactly what I have to do," Nathan said.

"You don't mean-"

Nathan nodded. "I do."

Cal laughed incredulously. "You're giving my position, my business, my work to him? To Frank? To a man you've never considered anything more than second-rate? Because you don't like my wife, and because he and his sister told you to?" Cal's eyes burned. "Just like that?"

Nathan kept his expression masklike. "I've put a great deal of thought into this. It's not a decision I made lightly. Your performance has been suffering for months, nearly a year, before your illness. Did you think I wouldn't notice? I hoped you'd pull yourself together, but when you married her..." His face twisted in disgust, in spite of himself. "I should've known you'd do something like this again."

Cal let his breath out slowly. His hands trembled. This couldn't be happening. He wasn't actually losing everything, all at once.

But there was no denying it. His father wouldn't change his mind. He knew that all too well.

"Goodbye then," Cal said.

"Caledon, be reasonable-"

"No," Cal said. "This is how you want it." And with that, he turned and left.

...

"What brings you here?" Rose asked. "Cal isn't home. He's on his way to the office. He's probably there already, actually." He wore an odd expression; his eyes were fixed on her. She didn't know why, but an eerie feeling crept over her, and she almost wished Cal were there. She wasn't sure about much where he was concerned anymore, but one thing she did know, Cal would never tolerate Robert staring at her that way.

"That's unfortunate," Robert said impassively. "But it's just as well."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "I came to see him, but this involves you too."

Rose kept her voice even. "What do you mean?" He moved toward her, and she fought the urge to step back. Something wasn't right. The feeling was growing stronger. Jack took her hand. "It's alright, Rose," he said.

"He hasn't told you?" Robert said. "No, I guess he wouldn't. Why should you know? Why should anyone? In a way, it's for the better. For us, that is."

Suddenly, Rose understood. "It's you," she said. "You've been helping Diana."

Robert grinned. "So you do know."

"Of course I know," she replied haughtily.

He was right in front of her now. She wanted to move but couldn't. She refused to let him see she was afraid. Her heart pounded. "Then you also know I can't allow either of you to use that information," Robert said. He tilted his head. "I've wondered, though, how did you figure out he was sick? How did you even get here? We did everything to keep you away."

"Clearly not," Rose said coldly.

Robert chuckled. "No, I guess not. If he'd just died, if you'd just let him die, this would all be so much simpler," he said somberly. "We didn't care about you."

"Oh, really?"

Rose couldn't believe her ears. Was that her voice, so confident and self-assured? Was any of this really happening? Cal, where are you? she wondered. Her throat tightened as she realized he might not be anywhere, at all. The worst could've already happened. But no, she would've felt it. Surely, she would've sensed he was in danger.

"We wanted you out of the way," he said. "It was only after he married you that you became a real problem." He reached out and touched her hair. Instinctively, Rose slapped his hand away. He raised an eyebrow. "I knew you were interesting the night we met," he said, a sliver of admiration in his voice. "We could work something out."

"Get away from me," Rose spat.

...

Cal didn't know where he was going. He couldn't focus; thoughts swirled through his head. What was happening? How could his father do this? After everything he'd done for him? He'd played the part so well, perfectly really, for so long. What more did his father want?

Cal fumed silently, completely oblivious to his surroundings. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. He deserved that position. He deserved to inherit. He knew this turn of events was connected to the plot to kill him. It had to be; there was just no other way. Diana was behind it, but she couldn't be working alone. She was smart, but there was no clear path from Frank's ascension to her. Unless, perhaps, she intended to benefit by association. That was certainly possible.

Cal might've walked all day, but a sudden wave of unease stopped him. He looked around for its cause; there was nothing, save an ordinary, busy street. He shrugged away the feeling, but as he started moving again, it came back, stronger this time.

His palms began to sweat; his stomach knotted, and a cold fear washed over him. His heart beat faster. What was going on? He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slowly. That's when it came to him.

Rose.

...

"I can see why Cal likes you so much," Robert said. "You've got spirit." Grinning, he moved closer. "Among other things."

"Stay away from me. I mean it!"

If Rose hadn't witnessed what happened next, she wouldn't have believed it. Robert reached out for her; she tensed, preparing to slap his hand away, but before she could, something-or more accurately, she would realize, someone-threw him back against the wall. The force knocked the wind out of him. Robert gasped in pain and shock. He slumped down, struggling for breath. What just happened? Rose couldn't have done it; she didn't have that kind of strength.

Rose's eyes widened; she gasped, one hand over her mouth, as Jack came into focus. His back was to her, but she could tell he was the same. He was exactly the same as the last time she saw him, only now he was warm and dry. But that couldn't be. He couldn't be in the same clothes. He couldn't still be that young. Eight years had gone by.

And of course, there was the matter of his death, but at that moment, it seemed somewhat uncertain.

Robert gaped at him. "Who are you?" he sputtered. "How did you get in here?" Jack didn't respond; he just stared down at him. Robert reached out to pull himself up. Without seeming to move, Jack held him by the throat. He lifted him to his feet. Robert blinked, stunned by this sudden turn of events.

Rose's voice was small. "Jack?" He looked over his shoulder. A smile came to his lips, unbidden. "Rose," he said.

Robert attempted to wriggle free. Jack tightened his grip. He turned back to him, his blue eyes stony. "What did you think you were doing?" Jack demanded. Anger coursed through him. He'd known something was wrong; he'd known there was a plot. If he'd tried, he could've unraveled it long ago. Why hadn't he? Because he wanted Cal to make an effort to save his own life? What about Rose? Did he have the right to risk hers?

But he wasn't, not really. He was there, watching over her. She was safe.

Jack smacked Robert's head against the wall. It was so easy. He had strength now he'd never dreamed of in life. Holding the other man off the floor was like holding a doll. It was a bit overwhelming, but also, exhilarating. Intoxicating, some might say. Vaguely, in the back of his mind, Jack wondered if this was how Cal had felt all those years ago. Was this what drove his behavior?

Rose's hand on his arm brought him back to reality. "Don't hurt him, Jack," she said. The words "Why not?" were on the tip of his tongue, but one look at her banished them. "Do you have something to tie him up with?" he asked.

She nodded. "I can get something."

"You'll hafta call someone," he said.

"I know."

Neither one of them moved. "You'll-you'll still be here when I get back?" she asked.

"I'll be here," Jack replied.

...

Jack tied Robert to a chair with scarves. Rose looked on from the next room, silently. Finally, he turned and came toward her. Without thinking, she held out her hands. He took them. Rose couldn't move, couldn't speak; he was solid and warm; he was alive, so impossibly real and alive.

She didn't know Jack felt himself fading even as he stood there. The energy it took to remain was enourmous, and it burned through him, leaving behind the warmth Rose mistook for life. "Did you call the police?" he asked.

"No. Not yet."

"You should," he said. "And..." And Cal, he meant to say. He couldn't bring himself to utter the words, to tell her to ask his rival back. It didn't matter that Cal wasn't really his rival. How could he be? How could a live man and a dead one compete? With every breath he took, Cal won all over again, and he didn't even realize it.

"Just let me look at you," Rose said. She put a hand against his cheek. Her thumb brushed his mouth, and he kissed it. A shiver went down her spine. "C'mere," he whispered, pulling her close.

She sank into his arms. "How did you get here?"

"I've always been here, Rose."

"No..." she said, shaking her head.

"Yes."

"But you're-"

"I'm not," Jack said gently. He tilted her head back and kissed her. "I shouldn't be here like this," he murmured between kisses.

"But you are. You can be," Rose insisted. She held fast to him. "Jack, don't leave me."

"Rose, I'll never leave you. Not really," he promised. "I never have." He brushed his fingers through her curls. "I've been with you every day. Watched you. Kept you safe."

Tears stung her eyes. "You know that's not what I mean." She twisted his shirt in her hands. "The way you are now...You're..."

"I wish I was." He kissed her again. "I wish I could hold you and touch you and you could hear me." He pressed her against him as tightly as he could. "I have to go," he whispered in her ear.

"No! Jack, no, don't."

"Yes, Rose." He looked into her eyes. "It's not the way I want it. Believe me. If I could change it-" He sighed; weariness settled over him. "I've stayed too long," he said. "I was never supposed to do this."

"Why did you?"

"I had to protect you," Jack said.

"I was fine," Rose insisted. "I could've taken care of myself."

"But you didn't have to."

He was getting harder to hold onto. Rose watched as he slowly began to disappear. "I love you," she said weakly.

He smiled, and some of his solidity returned. It was taking strength he didn't have anymore, but somehow, he found it. "I love you, Rose," he said. "I'm not leaving you. I'll always be here; I promise." He paused. What came next was painful, excruciatingly so. He didn't want to say it, though he knew he had to. It was time. He'd been avoiding this for so long, but he couldn't anymore. "I have to go," he said slowly. "In a different way than before. I've held on so much, but you're not alone anymore, and I don't belong in your life. Not even on the edge of it," he went on. "I've been selfish, Rose. I wanted you back. I wanted you to myself. Even after I knew Cal was the right man, I-"

"Jack-"

"Rose, please," he said. "Please try to understand. I never wanted to hurt you. You belong with him. He can love you in a way I can't, ways I never can again, maybe that I couldnt've even if we'd had more of a chance. I know you'll be alright," he said. "You'll be happy, and that's all I want."

"You know what he did," Rose said. "He lied to me. He betrayed me."

"Yeah, I know, but I also know how much he loves you. Rose, I've seen it. I've seen into his heart. What he feels for you, it's so strong and so different from anything I would've expected, but it's real. You can trust it. You know you can. Talk to him."

"I can't believe you're telling me this," she said.

Jack chuckled. "Neither can I. Life's funny. Or maybe I should say death."

"Jack, don't," she pleaded.

"I'm sorry."

He was starting to vanish again. He kissed her one last time. "I'll always be there," he said. Before she could reply, he was gone, blown away like a cloud of smoke and leaving nothing to show he'd ever been there. Just like in life, she couldn't help thinking.

...

Rose didn't know how much time passed before she heard the front door open and slam shut. Someone ran through the foyer and down the hall. "Rose?" Cal's voice echoed in the silent house. The staff, who up to this point had remained occupied and rather oblivious-willingly so-peeked out, curious to see what was happening.

"Rose?" He strode into the room. "Are you alright? I've been worried-sick with worry, actually," he said. "I don't know why, but suddenly I had this feeling you-" He looked into her face, and forgetting everything else, took her face in his hands. "Liebling, what happened? What's wrong? Tell me." Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Robert. "What's he doing here? Did he hurt you?"

"No," Rose managed to whisper. Her throat was tight.

"You-you tied him up?" Cal said, incredulous.

"Jack did."

"What?" he said. He looked around, expecting to find Jack waiting with a remark about his inadequacy, but he wasn't there.

"He's gone," Rose said. "He was here, but he's gone now."

Cal understood, without being told, that Jack was truly gone. He took a breath, unprepared for the feeling of loss this realization brought. Jack was gone? Forever? No more arguments or conversations, no more bits of insight or advice? It was like losing a best friend he hadn't known he had or even wanted.

"You saw him?" he asked.

"He was almost alive," she said. "I could've believed...He came to protect me," she added.

"I'm not surprised."

"Why did you come back so suddenly?" she said. "Why did you burst in like that? After last night-"

"I had to," Cal explained. "I was buried in myself, in my own anger and hurt over-over nothing that matters, and I felt you. I felt fear and you needing me," he said. "I had to get back to you."

"You don't get feelings like that."

"I do now," he said, understanding as he did so, that it was Jack's sense, Jack's connection to her that he'd tapped into. And now it was his as well, a parting gift from a man he owed everything, and from whom he deserved nothing.


	26. Chapter 26

She wore his pajamas sometimes. He'd been surprised at first. It was silly, but he'd never seen a woman in pants before, and it was strange, even if they were only for sleeping. They fit her well, however, and he couldn't pretend he didn't like seeing her in them. Rose caught him staring. She tilted her head coyly. "Do you mind?" she asked.

His tone was flirtatious. "Oh, are you asking?"

"Do you?"

"No," he said. "I don't mind."

There had been another time, when he'd pulled her into his arms. Nuzzling her neck, he said, "If you're wearing my pajamas, what am I supposed to wear?"

"You have more," she replied amiably.

"Maybe I wanted those."

"You can't always have everything you want," she said.

"What if I want you?" he asked, his lips brushing her ear.

They were good memories. Cal didn't know why he was reliving those particular moments, but he wished things could be that way again. He looked over at Rose, but her head was down, her face covered by her hair.

...

The police came. Ryan surveyed the scene, a skeptical look in his eyes, and asked the required questions. Rose answered as honestly as she could without mentioning Jack. He didn't talk to her long; Cal wouldn't let him. "She's been through enough," he said. "You know everything you need to know. The man you want is right in there."

Ryan glanced past Cal, into the next room, where Robert was still tied to a chair. "Yes," he said noncommitally. "So it seems."

"He's the one you should be questioning," Cal went on. "You should be off searching for his accomplices, not upsetting my wife even further." He put a hand on her shoulder. She didn't move. Cal wondered if touching her was a mistake. They'd barely spoken since she told him about Jack.

"We have to be thorough," Ryan said. "We can't just arrest someone without cause."

"You have cause," Cal argued. "He attacked me wife!" His voice rose; his eyes darkened. "Am I to understand that isn't a crime? It's not worthy of your concern?"

Ryan kept his voice low. "I never said that. It's just-"

"Just what?" Cal demanded.

Rose put a hand on his arm. "Cal."

He didn't seem to hear. "Is this the kind of treatment I can expect?" he shouted.

She spoke more forcefully. "Cal." Still nothing. She pressed down on his arm. " _Cal._ "

He snapped around to look at her. She was still holding his arm. There was a pleading look in her eyes; beneath it, however, was an unshakeable seriousness. _Stop_ , she seemed to be saying. _Now._

"Rose, I'm-" he began. Her eyes narrowed. He sighed. This needed to be done. Didn't she understand that? This man had to see what was going on; he had to take them seriously. They all had to see. Why didn't _she_ see? The situation was serious. Everything was crumbling around them; they were lucky to be alive. It pained him to admit it, and truthfully, he didn't entirely believe it; of course they were alive; he wasn't just anyone; it would take a great deal of effort to kill him. And they'd have to go through him to get to her. Cal stood a little straighter. No-one would ever get to her.

"I'm sure the detective realizes the severity of the situation," Rose said. "Don't you?" she added, glancing at Ryan, who nodded, surprised to be addressed so directly by her. "If you don't need anything further from me for now," Rose went on. "I'll ask you to please excuse me."

She left without waiting for an answer. Cal stared after her. He wanted to call to her but couldn't. She didn't want him to. She didn't want to be near him. Just the thought was like a knife twisting in his heart. And there was no-one else to blame. He'd done it to himself. And to her.

...

Rose lay in the middle of the bed, arms wrapped around herself. The room was dark and silent; its thick walls protected her from the scene below. Drapes kept out the day. Her eyes were heavy. Weariness settled over her, and she wished for sleep, but it wouldn't come. Too much had happened too quickly. She was exhausted from it all, wrung out, but she couldn't stop thinking about it.

 _Jack._

She whispered his name, as if the spoken word were enough to conjure him. She held her breath, but of course, it wasn't. How could it be? He was gone. He was more out of reach now than ever. At least before, he'd been there, in some form or another, but now...What did it matter, she wondered, whether he was there or not. She hadn't known, hadn't had any inkling of his presence, so why did his absence hit so hard?

Except she had known, without knowing, if that was possibe. It was only just becoming apparent to her; all those times she'd felt comforted, felt herself safe and reassured, were all because of him. Those times she'd talked to him, he'd heard. Had he responded? Did she just not hear? What did he think of her relationship with Cal? Did he approve? Or was he angry? Did he shake his head, grieved and confused, asking why? And how could she do it?

The worst thing, Rose decided, was that he'd chosen to reveal himself just at the moment he chose to leave forever.

...

Cal's knock was measured. "Rose?" Cautiously, he added, "Liebling?"

Her voice sounded faraway. "Yes?"

"May I come in?" he asked.

"Yes."

She was bathed in golden lamplight. Cal hesitated, his hand on the doorknob. "Were you sleeping?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I just came up here to think. I wanted to keep everything out for a while."

"Understandable." There was a pause. "The police have gone," Cal said. "They arrested Robert, and they're searching for his accomplices now. It shouldn't take long."

"That's a good thing, I suppose."

"Yes," he said.

"Do you want to sit down?"

Cal smiled. "I'd like that. You don't mind?"

Rose curled her legs, leaving space at the foot of the bed. "I don't mind."

"I didn't think you'd want me this close," he said.

"We should talk. Cal, there are things that need to be said."

"I know," he replied. "I'm listening."

"Are you?" She watched him intently. "Truly?"

"Vertrau mir, Rose." _Trust me, Rose._

Sighing, she looked away. "That's easier said than done."

"Do you think you can ever trust me again?" he asked.

"I don't know."

"Do you want to?" He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer. What if she said no? What if she was leaving him? His stomach knotted. He couldn't bear the thought of living without her. Cal put his hand on hers. "Rose..." The words stuck in his throat. "Verlass mich bitte nicht." _Don't leave me, please._ "Ich liebe dich." _I love you._

"Cal, I don't want to leave you." Rose let his hand remain. "I love you. That's what makes this so awful. Trusting you wasn't easy. I've been wondering if I made a mistake."

"It won't mean anything if I say you didn't, will it?"

"I don't see how it could," she replied.

"I only wanted to protect you, Rose," he said. "That's all I was trying to do."

"I know that, and I understand your motives, but Cal, you can't protect me by lying."

"I didn't lie," he protested. "I just didn't tell you everything."

She gave him a look. "That isn't a justification."

He closed his eyes and held up his hands. "Alright. Maybe it isn't," he said. "And maybe I knew that. I didn't know what else to do. If I'd told you what was going on, or what I thought was going on, you would've been in more danger."

"How?"

"Would you honestly have let me pursue this?" he asked. "On my own?"

"You mean, would I have stayed out of it?" Rose said.

"Yes."

"Probably not," she admitted. "But why should I?"

"Because it's for me to handle," Cal said.

"You can't think that way." She held his gaze. "We can't...Our relationship won't survive that way. You must know that."

"It doesn't appear to be survivng as it is," he replied ruefully.

"I never said it was over."

"You don't have to, Rose," he said. He sighed. "This isn't how I wanted things to turn out. I thought if I could solve this, if I was the hero and kept you safe-"

"What? You thought I'd fall in love with you? Marry you?" Rose shook her head. "Cal, I already did that."

"No, that wasn't it."

"What then?" she asked. "You needed to be in control? You needed to feel like you could solve everything without help? For what, to impress me? Or was it for yourself? So you could feel satisfied and accomplished. So everyone else would see you that way." He didn't respond. Rose touched his hand. "I know how hard you work to keep people from seeing your whole self. I know it scares you. You have this image you think you must live up to all the time."

"Not with you," Cal said softly.

"Yes, with me," Rose said. "Maybe even more so because you're open with me."

"No-one knows me the way you do."

"I believe that," she said.

"Now what?" he asked.

"I don't know."

He put his hand over hers. "Would it matter if I asked you to stay?"

"Of course it would."

...

The staff knew everything, and what they didn't know, they filled in with speculation. Cal sent everyone away. He couldn't be sure who was involved, but more importantly, he didn't want to hear their talk about what had happened. Rose remained upstairs, leaving him to wander the empty house. His head was crowded with thoughts, his nerves on edge; keeping still was impossible. He was sure Rose would announce her departure at any moment. She was trying to spare his feelings by waiting, but he knew, when she finally came down, it would all be over.

Cal wasn't taken completely by surprise when the doorbell rang. Of course someone would be there, if not the police, then a reporter. No doubt the whole story had already made its way through the newspaper offices. Keeping it quiet would be difficult, not that he'd tried. What did it matter now?

He was wrong, however, and he found himself standing face to face with his father, who looked thoroughly uncomfortable. "Answering your own door, are you?" Nathan said. "That's a change."

Cal was at a loss for words. "I sent everyone out."

Nathan made a noise in his throat. "Are we going to stand in the doorway?"

Cal stepped aside to let him in. "Why are you here?"

"What do you mean? I heard what's been going on."

"That doesn't quite answer my question," Cal said. "Why did you come?"

Nathan stared at him. "To help you, of course. Listen, I know after what went on this morning it may seem a bit odd that I'm here, but-"

"It's more than a bit odd."

Nathan sighed heavily. When he spoke it was with exaggerated patience. "Caledon, you must understand-"

"I do understand," Cal interrupted. "Trust me. I was there this morning, and I've been here for years. I know exactly how you do things."

Nathan eyed him reprovingly. "You aren't going to make a scene, are you? Just because I made a decision that was best for everyone, especially you?"

"Best for me?" Cal sputtered. "How could you think-" He took a breath, letting the words dissolve in his mouth. "I don't want to get into this," he said. "We both said everything already."

"I know you're upset," Nathan said. "And I can understand why and even sympathize, but _you_ need to accept that you're going to need my help."

"Why would I need you?"

"This man didn't act alone," Nathan replied. "I'm sure I don't know everything yet, but based on what I do know, this matter will be dealt with as quickly and discreetly as possible. The last thing this family needs is another scandal to contain, but since you've seen fit to bring one upon us again-"

Cal's eyes narrowed. "Are you blaming me for all this?"

"You must admit, Caledon, you share a portion of the blame."

Cal couldn't believe his ears. Anger welled up within him, threatening to spill over. Years of feeling inadequate, of overcompensating for his basic inability to ever be enough, seemed to all come together at once. He clenched his fists and released them, placing his hands safely in his pockets. "You need to leave," he said in a low voice. Nathan opened his mouth to argue. "Now," Cal insisted. "I want you out. I don't want to hear from you again. Any of you."

Nathan gave him a hard look. "Think about what you're doing. You'll regret this."

"No, I won't," Cal replied. "It's what I should've done a long time ago."

Nathan turned in the doorway. "If you change your mind-"

"Don't worry about that."

"This is it then?" Nathan said. "You're cutting your family out of your life forever? As if we never existed?" His eyes were almost pleading. "You're my only son. I just-"

"We both know that's not true," Cal scoffed. He closed the door before Nathan could reply. Breathing deeply, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the cold wood in a vain attempt to stave off the ache forming behind his eyes.

"Cal." Rose's hand on his shoulder startled him. He jumped, whirling around. He let out a shaky laugh. "Liebling."

"Are you alright?" she asked. "I heard what happened," she added. "Cal-"

"It's fine," he said. "I've always known I wasn't quite what my father had in mind." His mouth twitched. "At least now it's out in the open."

"His actions may be misguided, but he loves you. He's your father. He thinks he knows best."

"Being my father doesn't necessarily equal love and affection," Cal replied. "I'm not his only child, by any means. Perhaps that's the problem," he said thoughtfully.

"You can't think that way," Rose said.

"I don't intend to think about him again. Or any of them. I never got a chance to tell you, but my father was there, when I went to the office this morning. He was waiting to tell me I'm out. Frank's in. He's taking my place. That's it. It's all over." He chuckled dryly. "I've done everything he ever asked."

Rose wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, liebling." He leaned his cheek against her hair. "You haven't done anything wrong."

...

They made dinner together. Little was said, aside from polite requests for utensils and ingredients. They ate in the kitchen. Neither felt any need to move into the cavernous dining room. They sat next to each other, chairs pulled just a bit too close together, as if somehow, that would breach the divide between them.

"I planned to go away," Cal said. "For us to go away, as soon as possible."

"Because of Robert and Diana?"

"And the rest of my family," he said. "It's time to leave here. I should've left a long time ago, but I didn't have a good enough reason." He glanced at her.

"Don't do this because of me," Rose said. "We've been over this."

"I can't deny your influence on my decision, but my family's brought this on themselves." He shrugged. "Without you, maybe I wouldn't have actually gotten to this point. I doubt I would've been happy either."

"You can't base everything around me," she said.

"I know," Cal said. "I'm not." He hesitated. "Does this mean...Are you leaving?"

Rose's voice was steady, but he thought he saw a tear in her eye. "I don't want to."

"Bleib, mein liebling," he pleaded. _Stay, my darling._

"Aber kann ich dir vertrauen?" _But can I trust you?_

Cal held out his hands, palms up. "I'll do whatever you want. Whatever it takes for you to trust me again. Just tell me, Rose."

...

"I'm just going to get some clothes, and I'll be out of your way," Cal said. He crossed over to the closet.

"You can stay," Rose said. "If you'd like, you can stay."

"Do you want me to?"

"I don't want to be alone. Do you?" she said.

"I hate being alone."

Rose couldn't help being reminded of their first days together. He sat at the end of the bed, she at the top. Only their feet touched. "I like this," Cal said.

"We haven't done this in a while."

There was a pause. They began to speak at the same time. "Cal-" "Rose-" Their eyes met, and they laughed. "Go on," she said. "What were you going to say?"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Jack."

"I hadn't thought of him," she said.

"Hadn't you?"

"That part is so unbelievable," she said. "He hasn't been my focus.I can't quite accept that he's been here the whole time."

"It's rather strange," he agreed.

"When did you find out?" she asked.

"I felt him the first night we stayed together, only I didn't know it was him. Whenever I was with you after that, I felt a presence. Like someone watching me," Cal explained.

"He broke all my glasses that night." Rose shook her head. "He must've been so upset."

"He was also dead," Cal reminded her gently. "You aren't. He understood that. And he chose to stay around when that happened."

"I know, but still, it must have been difficult. Watching."

"He didn't watch," he replied. "Not during those times."

"I didn't mean then specifically, though I'm glad to know he didn't. I love him, but that would've been a bit too much."

"He helped me pick out your ring," he said.

Rose glanced down at her hand. "It does remind me of him. He told me when you were sick," she added thoughtfully. "He helped me get here."

"I asked him to get you. No-one else would do it."

She looked surprised. "You could see him?"

"Not at first," Cal replied. "When I was dying, I started seeing him. And hearing him. We talked often after that. He yelled at me. Said I was letting my life slip away without fighting for it. I was just letting it all go. He was right. He helped me stay alive. He helped keep us both alive. I wouldn't have known about the poison if not for him."

"He was a good man," Rose said, her eyes heavy.

"Yes, he was. I'll miss him."

There was a quaver in her voice. "So will I." Her chin wobbled, and a tear rolled down her cheek. Cal wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly against him. "Don't cry, liebling," he said. "He wouldn't want that."

"I know I can't have him back," Rose said. "And even if I could..." She pressed her face into his shirt. He kissed the top of her head. "I love you," she whispered. "I don't want to lose you."

"I'm not going anywhere, liebling," he promised.

"We aren't back the way we were," she said. She looked up into his eyes. He wiped a tear from her face. "I don't know how long it will take to get there again," she said.

"I can wait."

And he meant it. Cal had rarely waited for anything in his life, and he'd never waited patiently, but this was different. He would wait for her, no matter how long it took.

 _The End_

 **AN: I know it seems like years since I last updated anything, and I'm sorry. I just haven't been able to write, for a lot of reasons, and I decided to let it go for a while and wait for the urge to come back naturally. I'm going to try and update everything soon and catch back up with the stories I've been reading. This may seem like a weird ending, but it's kind of where I always intended things to end. I wanted it to be open and leave a few questions. There's a chance I'll write a sequel to this one. I have some ideas, which is another reason I wanted an open ending. I hope you enjoyed this story!**


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